Married to the Yard
by bemj11
Summary: A look at the relationship between Elisabeth Lestrade and her husband, Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is a series of scenes for jaigan, who asked for Lizzie/Lestrade. I hope you enjoy it, and that the rest of you like it too.

* * *

"You're late." I whispered. I received a weary smile in return.

"Sorry."

I stifled a sigh. "Finishing up that case?" Giles had been called out the night before on a case, and had sent a message to that effect so I would not worry if I didn't see much of him this morning.

He nodded. "We got him." He grimaced. "Lost a good man, but we got the-" He caught himself, and smiled again. "I really am sorry."

"Well, you're here now." I pointed out. "Even if you are a mess."

He considered his state. "I'm not a mess." He replied. "I'm not spotless, but considering the morning I've had-"

"You're a mess." I insisted. "Especially today."

He sighed and gave in. "I'm sorry." He said again. "I had to take cover when the man started shooting at us." The look in his eyes said it had been close. I shuddered.

"You're here." I insisted. "That's what counts."

Another shudder. "Your mother isn't going to let me hear the end of this."

I laughed. "Serves you right, being late for your own wedding." I scolded. Giles flushed, and tried to laugh with me, but it was forced. "It's all right." I assured him. "You didn't plan for some lunatic to go around poisoning people's dogs, and you certainly didn't plan for him to have a gun and turn violent on you."

He smiled, and I watched as he determinedly set everything else aside and I became the only thing in his world.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: This is a series of scenes for jaigan, who asked for Lizzie/Lestrade. I hope you enjoy it, and that the rest of you like it too.

* * *

"Why are you wet? It's not raining outside." I demanded as my husband paused in the doorway, reluctant to drench the rest of the house. He removed his jacket, his hat, and his shoes, and hesitated for less than a second before stalking off towards the washroom.

I had quickly come to appreciate the fact that the washroom was so close to the door. We had been married for all of a week before I realized that my husband had a tendency to come home from work dirty. Consequently, the washroom was his first stop upon returning home.

I ran up to the bedroom, and returned to the washroom as my husband began shivering out of clothes that were not only soaked, but reeked.

"Have you been in the river?" I demanded.

"Yes." He replied shortly.

"It's a bit cold for that." I replied easily, aware that his shortness was not with me. "And dirty."

"And I should probably warn you now that I think I swallowed far more of that stuff than anyone ever should." He retorted.

"Should anyone really swallow any of it?" I asked. "Get in the bath. The last thing we need is river scum spread around the house."

He grumbled, not at me, and obeyed.

I had also quickly come to realize that my husband tended to release most of the stress from his day by grumbling and snapping at people who were longer in his presence, and that none of his irritation was actually directed at me. I let him grumble.

I left his clothes there for the time being, I would deal with them after I had taken care of my husband, and headed to the kitchen. Giles had been shivering, and would appreciate a warm cup of tea when he was clean.

He would probably not appreciate the other stuff I was going to subject him to, but the last thing he needed was to end up sick from his dip in the river.

I found him in the sitting room, huddled in a blanket in front of the fire, and offered him the first bbbbcup.

He took one look at it, and blinked. "What is _that_?" He asked.

"Drink it." I said firmly. "I don't want you getting sick." He studied the cup reluctantly. "It's better not to smell it first." I warned, just a little too late. The look he gave me was one of pure horror.

"What is that?" He repeated.

"You can have some tea after you drink it." I said, and went for the bottle from whence the mixture had come. "I'm not sure you really want to know." I admitted.

"Like that stuff your father used on my head." He mused. Then he sighed, and tentatively took a swallow of the stuff.

He nearly choked. "What-?" He gasped.

I sighed. "Just drink it, Giles. You'll thank me later." The look he gave me said he doubted it, but he obliged, and managed to finish the cup before he started coughing again.

He accepted the tea gratefully, and went to studying the bottle I had offered for his inspection. After a moment, he gave it back.

"I think you may be right." He said. "I don't think I actually want to know."

He was surprised and pleased to find it actually worked; everyone had been anticipating that his dunk in the river would leave him violently ill for at least a few days.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mmm..." My husband paused in the doorway a little longer than usual. "Something smells good!"

I had to smile. "Dinner's ready!" I called back. "Soon as you've washed!"

He wasn't long in appearing in the kitchen. "Is that stew?" He asked.

"It certainly is." I said, offering him a bowl and some bread. "It's not much..."

Giles groaned. "It smells wonderful, love, and certainly beats working up the energy to cook something myself after the day I've had." He smiled, and started on his dinner.

He was tired, and it had been a rough day. I didn't ask him about it; the last thing he wanted was to come home from work and relive the day.

"So you married me so you wouldn't have to cook for yourself, is that it?" I teased.

Giles snorted. "You found me out." He confessed. "I was tired of living off of tea and toast."

"Is it worth it?" I asked. "Giving up your freedom and tying yourself down to one woman?"

Giles laughed outright. "Are there any other women?" He wanted to know.

"Good answer, dear." I told him fondly.

A smug grin spread across his features. "I rather thought so." He agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

I groaned and rolled over in bed. Giles, on the other hand, sat up. "Did you hear that, Lizzie?" He mumbled, not quite awake yet.

I listened. "There's someone at the door." I confirmed.

"I'll see who it is, love." My husband rolled out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown as he left the room.

He hurried down the stairs and answered the door. I could hear a muted discussion in the hall, and shortly my husband returned to the bedroom. He was getting dressed, and quickly. I sat up.

"I'm sorry." He apologized quickly. "Go back to sleep, love. That was Adams. There's been a body discovered."

"It can't wait until morning?" I yawned, and wondered how my husband could suddenly be so alert. "You didn't get in until late last night anyway."

"I know, but I have to go. I'm sorry, love." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes searching mine for _something_.

"Go on, then." I told him. "You're keeping me awake." I smiled to make sure he knew I was teasing him.

He smiled. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, I hope." He leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. "Go back to sleep."

"I would if you'd leave." I replied smartly. "Have fun running around with the boys."

He laughed, kissed my hand, and was gone.

I found it immensely difficult to go back to sleep. Eventually I gave up and climbed out of bet and dressed. I would get an early start on the household chores today.


	5. Chapter 5

The Inspector eyed me coolly. "I'm afraid Inspector Lestrade is not available right now, Miss. Is there anything I can do for you instead?"

I regarded the man standing in front of me. Fair haired, a bit pale, very confident. He didn't seem immensely worried by the fact that my husband was 'unavailable.' "I would prefer to see Inspector Lestrade." I told him. I tried to remain calm. I didn't need to cause a scene here.

The Inspector scowled. "I have already told you, Miss, that Inspector Lestrade-"

My patience was running out. "I have not seen my husband for three days, Inspector!" I cut him off. "Where is Inspector Lestrade?"

He was annoyed now. I didn't really care. "Lestrade is out on a case, Miss. But I assure you-"

"I am here, Gregson." The sound of my husband's voice sent my heart jumping into my throat. He was alive!

Inspector Gregson turned to look for the man who had spoken. "This young woman here has lost her husband, Lestrade, and insists-"

"Giles!" It was all I could do not to throw myself at the man as he joined us. Inspector Gregson gaped, and my husband blinked.

"Lizzie!" He recovered. "Heavens, I-" He swallowed. "How could I have-Forgive me."

I looked my husband over. He hadn't slept or eaten properly since I had last seen him, unless I was greatly mistaken. There were deep purple smudges under his eyes, and his face was drawn. His clothes were rumpled, his sleeve torn, and there was blood on his collar.

"You've been busy." I commented, when I could trust my voice. "Will you be home this evening?"

Giles grimaced. "I'm not sure." He admitted wearily. "They want this mess wrapped up tonight."

I nodded. "I'll have something on the stove whenever you get home." I told him. We would discuss this later. Now was not the time.

Gratitude flashed in fatigue dulled eyes. "Thank you." He said.

Inspector Gregson was still staring. I turned to look him in the eye. "I'm Elisabeth Lestrade." I introduced myself. "You must be Inspector Gregson."

The man tried to recover. "I-pleased to meet you." He eyed my husband. "I didn't realize you were married, Lestrade."

My husband shifted uncomfortably. I answered for him. "We have been for a couple months, now. He must have forgotten to mention it." This last was a lie, and Inspector Gregson looked unconvinced. I turned back to my husband. "I'll see you at home, Giles."

* * *

Disclaimer: The world of Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.


	6. Chapter 6

"Next time send a note." I said as I joined my husband at the table.

"What?" He asked. I had caught him off guard.

"If you're going to be gone for a few days, send a note so I don't think you're dead." I told him.

"Oh." He said. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. This case was a disaster from the start. I don't know how I forgot." He was dead on his feet, he was so tired.

"Whose blood is that?" I asked. "Yours?"

My husband shrugged. "I don't remember, to tell you the truth."

"I feared the worst, when you didn't come home." I confessed. "I tried telling myself you were just busy, that perhaps you had forgotten-" I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

Giles sighed, and I saw the pain in his eyes. He really was too tired to deal with this right now, but I couldn't just let it go.

"You're never home, Giles." I said. "The Yard says come and you jump to it. I wake up and find the bed empty. I don't see you all day or all night, and then you come home so tired that it's all I can do to get you to eat something before you fall asleep on your feet. Even when you're supposed to be off, you're working!"

My husband had stopped eating. His dark eyes were blank as he stared out into nothing.

I waited.

Finally his eyes met mine, and I could read distress, and guilt, in them. "I'm sorry. You deserve better. Forgive me."

I sighed. "Of course." I told him. I did love the man.

"I will do better, Elisabeth." He promised.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, and the boys at Scotland Yard do not belong to me.


	7. Chapter 7

Another knock on the door in the middle of the night. My husband wordlessly slid out of bed and donned his dressing gown. He slipped from the room like a ghost.

I waited until I heard his footsteps on the stairs, and slipped out after him. I found my own gown, and followed him. I stopped and waited at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes on my husband.

"No." He was saying firmly. "I'm off duty tonight. Tell Jones it can wait until tomorrow." His voice was low as he spoke. The constable on the other side of the door muttered something, and Giles' jaw clenched. He struggled for a moment, then came to a decision, and guilt weighed him down as he replied.

"I can't. It will have to wait."

My husband was a man of his word. He had been spending more time at home, and less at work, though it made him restless, almost uneasy. He never said anything, never hinted that it was difficult for him to be safe at home while others were out risking there lives, but I could see the truth, and I was beginning to realize that he was also a man devoted to his work. I sighed softly; I would not make him choose between his wife and his job.

"Go put some clothes on, and I'll have a sandwich ready for you to take with you." Both men jumped as I spoke.

I smiled at my husband as I headed for the kitchen. He hesitated, I had caught him off guard.

"Go on, Inspector." I ordered cheerily. "You've got work to do."

He blinked, and headed back upstairs. He dressed and returned quickly, but still seemed puzzled as he accepted his sandwich.

"Send a note if you're going to be late." I reminded him.

He nodded, grateful, and went off into the night with the constable.

I went back upstairs and back to bed.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me.


	8. Chapter 8

"Merry Christmas." I threw a present at my husband.

He was so busy laughing that it almost hit him in the face. He caught it, just in time.

"I am so sorry." He was still laughing.

"Nobody warned me, you know." I complained. "Who knew the Christmas season was so rife with crime? It's supposed to be the season of goodwill towards one's fellow men." I put on a show of grimacing, which set him off again. I regarded my husband suspiciously.

"Is there something wrong with you today?" I demanded. "You're in an awfully good mood."

"No dead bodies today." He replied half seriously. "I didn't think we were going to even _have_ a Christmas."

I snorted. "You don't mind?"

His first response was to smile. "Not at all. Do you?"

"We could have it in July for all I care." I replied. "Two days late is nothing, as long as you're here with me."

Giles looked thoughtful. "What happens when the family wants to know whether we celebrate on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day? I know your mother was threatening that next Christmas would be spent with the family."

I pretended to think. "Oh, we celebrate on whatever day Giles isn't out trying to get himself killed, Mother. Last year it was in Frebruary."

I broke down and started laughing as Giles put on a horrified expression. "She already thinks I'm no good." He grumbled good-naturedly. It didn't bother him much that my mother didn't like him. He claimed that as an Inspector of Scotland Yard he was used to people not liking him.

He stood, and disappeared from the room for a moment only to return with a package. He dumped it into my lap. "Merry Christmas." He said softly as he settled beside me on the couch.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me.


	9. Chapter 9

"Giles, are you busy?"

"Define _busy_." Came the distracted reply.

I found my husband in the washroom, his shirt abandoned on the floor, trying valiantly to get himself clean of _whatever it was_ he was covered with.

"Need some help?" I offered. My husband shook his head.

"I don't think so. It'd proabably only get you too." He glared at his arms. "What did you need?" He asked as he tackled the grime on his face again.

"Remember when we said we'd like to have children someday?" I asked.

"I do." He replied absently, giving up on his face and trying to do something about his hair.

I chuckled at the sight, and tried again. "Well, it may be a little sooner than we expected."

"Think so?" Giles gave up and went for a towel.

"I know so." I replied. A broad smile was spreading across my face.

"Oh." His head disappeared as he began trying to dry his hair.

I waited.

My husband froze. "Wait. What?" His head emerged from beneath the towel.

"We're going to have a baby."

Giles blinked. "Really?" He asked.

"Really." Dark eyes regarded me seriously.

Slowly, my husband smiled. He stepped forward, and pulled me into his arms, then actually lifted me off the ground and spun me around in the air.

I was giggling. "Put me down!" I tried to sound stern. "You aren't the least bit excited, are you?" I teased.

Giles beamed at me. "I am excited, estatic, delighted, thrilled, shocked, awed, and absolutely terrified." He informed me. "A child."

"A son." I corrected.

"If you say so." He replied agreeably, a grin still plastered onto his face.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and company do not belong to me.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hello!" My husband flinched. Then he groaned.

"You don't just walk into the house of an Inspector of Scotland Yard without knocking, Kristina! Especially not when someone's been shooting at him the night before!" He shouted as he got up from the kitchen table.

_"I_ do!" Came the reply.

Giles sighed, and I found myself stifling a giggle.

"_You_ do." He agreed. "That doesn't mean you should!" He was grinning, though, as we went to welcome her.

"I'm family. I'm staying until the baby comes. Why knock?" Giles' sister was standing in the doorway, a huge smile on her face.

Giles submitted himself to his sister's enthusiastic greeting with an air of fond tolerance. Kristina pulled him into an affectionate hug and kissed him on the forehead, the patted him on the head before turning her attention to me.

"You look radiant, Elisabeth!" She pulled me into a hug as well, and kissed me on the cheek. The first, and last, time I had seen the woman had been at our wedding, but with Kristina, you felt as if you had always known her. Her husband, Joey, was the same way. They were two of the friendliest people I had ever met.

"Thank you for coming." Giles murmured as he brought her luggage in. "I have to confess it eases my mind considerably."

Kristina laughed. "Any excuse to see family." She joked. "It's been too long since we've seen each other, Giles."

"How is Joey taking your absence?" My husband inquired.

"He was thinking about moping at first, but decided he was willing to sacrifice for the greater good, you know." Kristina repled.

"Greater good." Giles snorted. "Well, come on, and I'll show you to your room."

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.


	11. Chapter 11

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Giles." I could hear them downstairs.

"I know." Came the low reply.

"Out on a case?" Kristina demanded. "This is the birth of your son, Giles." I could almost see him shift uncomfortably under his sister's glare. "It only happens once." She continued. "Does she know she married Scotland Yard? Do you really think she's going to put up with this sort of thing for long?"

I raised my voice to be heard clearly by both of them. "If you're finished harassing my husband, Kristina, will you please send him up so he can meet his son?"

Footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Giles appeared in the doorway.

I smiled. "Come on in." He did so nervously, and came to stand by the bed.

"Sorry." He murmured softly.

I laughed. "Don't worry, I'm fully aware that I married Scotland Yard." I assured him. "Come meet your son." I patted the bed, inviting him to sit down beside me. "Say hello, Jackie."

Giles smiled down at our son, his dark eyes glittering. "He's beautiful." He breathed, awed. "Hello, Jackie."

"Do you want to hold him?" My husband hesitated, then carefully took the child from me. He sat still, gazing with wonder at the small human being in his arms.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.


	12. Chapter 12

"Giles is in the sitting room, Inspector." I showed Inspector Gregson in, and paused to watch his reaction to the scene before him.

My husband was sitting at his desk, reading through several work related papers, Jackie cradled in his arm. He was humming softly to the child as he worked.

The Inspector gawked, and stared, and nearly jumped out of his shoes when I cleared my throat. "Inspector Gregson to see you, Giles." My husband looked up, then stood to greet the man. "I'll take Jackie upstairs so you two can talk."

Giles nodded, and turned our son over to me, a gentle smile playing about his lips. "Thank you, Lizzie." He stroked our son's cheek, then turned to a still off balance Inspector Gregson. As he did, he automatically shifted from Giles, husband and father, to Inspector Lestrade.

This change brought the poor Inspector out of his confused state, and the two sat down to discuss some case or other as I took our son upstairs.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys do not belong to me.


	13. Chapter 13

My husband stared up blearily at me. I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been ill for almost a week now, a result of running around London in the cold and the wet and not getting enough food or rest or keeping warm enough.

He was actually awake, and working on cognizance. That meant he was on the mend.

I wondered if I could manage to keep the man home for a few more days. Probably not. I'd been running his colleagues off all week anyway.

"Morning, dear." I said softly. "Well, night, actually." I corrected as I sat down on the bed beside him.

He took in that bit of information. His eyes followed my movements.

"Feeling any better?" I asked.

He smiled. "A little." He admitted, trying to sit up. I pushed him back down with one hand.

"If I can do that, you're still too weak to be up." I informed him. "But if you're hungry, I'll bring you something."

"That would be nice." He murmured absently. His mind was starting to function again. "How long-?"

"A week." I informed him. "I'll be right back with some food."

He was silent when I returned, and wordlessly started on the meal I had brought him. I sat with him while he ate, glad to see him awake and feeding himself.

Silence still reigned in the bedroom as he finished eating and turned to fasten dark eyes on my face. "Happy anniversary." He said meekly.

I almost laughed. "Happy Anniversary yourself." I replied. "You told me that two days ago, when it actually _was_ our anniversary and you were half out of your head. Next time just drink the stuff, Giles."

My husband sighed. "You'll never hear another argument from me about it." He vowed.

I smiled at him. "Good man. Now behave yourself and get some rest while I check on our son. I think I hear him starting to fuss."

"Yes, love." He said softly. He was already tired again. I could probably get him to stay in bed one more day, I figured. After that I would just have to let him go.

"Glad you're feeling better." I said, and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be in to check on you later." He was asleep again before I had made it to the door.


	14. Chapter 14

I stirred, and opened my eyes to an empty bed. I sighed and rolled over, resigned to another night alone. I loved my husband, and was proud of him for the devotion he felt towards his job, but it wasn't always easy to be left behind and hope for Giles to return mostly unharmed.

My eyes had barely closed again when I heard the footsteps downstairs. I started up; a second later I recognized them as belonging to my husband. He had not been called out, then. He was up for a different reason.

I slipped out of bed and made my way into the hall and downstairs. I found my husband in the sitting room, standing in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames.

"Giles?" I asked, and he stirred like a man awakened from a dream. His eyes, when he turned to look at me, were haunted. I smiled sadly. "I knew something had happened." I said softly. "Would it help to talk about it?"

My husband sighed, and tried to pull himself out of his dark mood. He was only partially successful. I went to him, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He responded by pulling me closer, and holding me in his own. I rested my head on his shoulder.

We stood like that in silence for some time.

Finally, he spoke. "I just can't believe some of the things people are capable of doing to each other." His voice was low. "I see the worst of society every day, and there are still times when I am surprised by the depravity of human nature."

"When you constantly see the worst it's sometimes easy to forget that there is also a lot of good out there." I mumbled into my husband's shoulder.

"Especially after days like today." Giles murmured. "I can't close my eyes without the same scene replaying over and over again in my head." He drew back, his expression somewhat sheepish. "It makes it hard to sleep. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

I offered my husband a reassuring smile. "Why don't we just sit, then.?" I led him to the couch. "We haven't been able to just sit and spend time with each other for some time anyway."

He sat down, and pulled me close beside him. We sat there like that, through the long hours of the night, until finally the sounds of morning and of our son stirring upstairs prompted us to move.

"I'll get him." My husband said with a not quite so troubled smile. He was up off the couch and on his way upstairs in a moment, the ghosts of last night pushed away, for the time being.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys do not belong to me.


	15. Chapter 15

A knock sounded at the door.

I scooped Jackie up, for the child was more than capable of getting into trouble when my back was turned even for a minute, took a deep breath, and went to answer it.

Inspector Gregson was at the door, looking absolutely miserable. I swallowed the rising lump in my throat and forced myself to remain calm. "May I help you, Inspector?"

Gregson too swallowed nervously, and took a deep breath of his own. "I-I don't know how to say this, Mrs. Lestrade…" He licked his lips, trying to find the right words.

"Just tell me." I said, my voice surprisingly even. "Don't worry about trying to make it sound nice."

He was surprised, but grateful, and nodded. "Your husband was shot today, while on a case, Mrs. Lestrade."

My heart nearly stopped beating then and there. "Is he-?"

"No!" He exhaled quickly. "No. Sorry. He's alive, Mrs. Lestrade." My heart started beating again. He looked almost embarrassed. "He's in hospital right now. He's on morphine, so he's not in pain, but he was still distressed, and mumbling something about needing to get home, and he wouldn't calm down until I promised to inform you of what had happened."

I nodded. "Thank you." I managed a smile. "It was very kind of you to come." I tried to think; what was I supposed to do now? "You came a long way, would you like a cup of tea before you go?"

He shook his head. "No thank you, Mrs. Lestrade" He said. "I need to be getting back to the Yard." He hesitated, something on his mind. "When we met, Mrs. Lestrade-"

I cut him off. "I was worried about my husband and you were only trying to do your job." I smiled. "Thank you, Inspector."

He nodded, and almost smiled. "I'm sorry to have to bring you bad news." He said.

"News that my husband is still alive is hardly bad news, Inspector." I told the man firmly. "Good day."

He did smile then. "Good day, Mrs. Lestrade."

I closed the door and looked at Jackie. "Well, looks like your Papa isn't going to make it after all." I told him. "It'll be alright, though. You weren't forgotten, he was still thinking of you as they dragged him in to the hospital. Maybe we'll go see him tomorrow, okay? And we can celebrate your birthday when he gets home."

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys are unfortunately not mine.


	16. Chapter 16

"A daughter." Giles was captivated. I beamed at my husband as he stared down at the tiny bundle in his arms. Then he recovered himself, and scooped up the little boy who was trying vainly to clamber up his leg and see for himself what had caught his father's attention. The movement startled me, and I thought the doctor was going to have a fit, but our daughter wasn't so much as jostled.

"I'm afraid you're not an only child any more, laddie." My husband informed Jackie. "Pretty little thing, isn't she? Like her mother."

"She has your hair." I pointed out.

"But nobody ever accused her father of being pretty." Giles informed me less than solemnly.

"They were probably afraid to." I retorted. He grinned back at me, a child in each arm, perfectly happy.

A half frantic pounding on the door downstairs was accompanied by cries of "Inspector! Inspector!" The carefree mood was broken instantly. Giles handed our daughter back to me and let our son slide to the floor.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." He assured me.

"Go on." I urged, before he could hesitate. "We'll still be here when you return."

Jackie managed to clamber onto the foot of my bed as his father left the room. A second later I heard footsteps on the stairs, and after that the sound of the door opening and closing as my husband was called out into the city.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's note: I wanted to thank all my reviewers and assure you that I haven't been ignoring you, I just had finals week last week and have been extremely busy, it's amazing I had time to post anything at all. But really, the feedback is great, and very encouraging, and hopefully now that I have a break from school I can do even more and look after some of the stories I've been neglecting.

* * *

I heard Jackie's shriek of laughter as his father swept him off his feet on his way from the washroom. I sighed wearily, and tried to pull myself together as the two of them entered the kitchen.

"Where's Heather?" He asked. I managed a small smile.

"Sleeping." Giles was relieved.

"That's good, isn't it?" He asked. "She hasn't been." I nodded. He looked around the empty kitchen. "Shall I cook tonight, love?" He asked as he set Jackie down in one of the chairs at the table.

"Giles-" My husband stopped, and came to sit down beside me at the table.

"What is it?" He asked as Jackie promptly scrambled back into his lap.

"The doctor was here today." I told him, trying to keep my composure. "Again. He said- Heather's not a healthy baby."

Giles nodded, but didn't say a word. Dark eyes met mine; they offered support, and encouragement, and the strength to tell him what needed said. I swallowed, trying to relieve some of the tightness in my throat.

"He said the chances of her making it to her first birthday are slim."

He didn't react, other than to nod. "Slim is still better than none." He pointed out. "Whatever happens, we'll manage, Lizzie."

I nodded as well, trying to keep it together for my husband's sake. "In the meantime, he's doing what he can." I said. "But the doctor costs money, Giles, and-"

"That's for me to worry about, love." My husband assured me. "It'll work out. Don't worry."

I sighed, other things finally pushing their way to the front of my mind. "I'm sorry. You've had a long day, and dinner's not even started." I said, starting to get up. A hand caught my arm, and wouldn't let me go.

Giles stood and pulled me into his arms. "It's going to be alright, Lizzie." He told me. Then he smiled. "And I already told you I'll cook tonight."

"Are you sure you still know how?" I teased weakly.

An eyebrow went up. "Is that a challenge?" How he managed to come fome from work and still have the energy to both cook _and_ pretend everything was alright was beyond me, but I was grateful for it.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and company belong to Doyle, and not to me.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's note: Sorry, I seem to be in a rather depressing writing mood. Nothing wrong with the rest of me, oddly enough, but less than happy things just keep coming out. Bear with me.

* * *

Heather was awake, and screaming loudly enough to wake the dead. "I'll get her." My husband was up from the dinner table and halfway up the stairs before I could even think about protesting.

I was tired. It had been another rough day with Heather; she was still weak, and I feared she was getting worse. The doctor would be by again tomorrow…

I didn't know how we were going to manage, and I didn't know how my husband managed to keep it together. You wouldn't have thought anything was bothering him at all, unless you knew where to look, and even then you might miss that almost desperate look in his dark eyes.

Heather was still crying as he brought her downstairs. He had been working more than usual lately, it seemed, and hadn't had a lot of experience in comforting his daughter. He handed her over to me with an apologetic gesture that was almost amusing.

She finally quieted, and once I was sure she would stay that way Giles took her back so I could finish my now cold dinner.

Jackie, for once, didn't demand his father's attention, but remained in his chair, watching Giles as he cradled his daughter and hummed softly in her ear.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and company do not belong to me.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: Alright, don't hate me, guys. I already don't like myself enough for this as it is...

* * *

"I'm sorry." The words were barely out of his mouth before I had thrown myself into my husband's arms and pressed close to him, as if his embrace could hold the world and reality at bay. He caught me, and held tight as I sobbed helplessly into his shoulder. My knees gave out, and instead of him supporting me, the two of us sank to the floor.

"I am so sorry." His voice was anguished as he whispered into my hair. A whimper escaped me, and his embrace tightened.

He was shaking too, and I felt something wet splash on my neck. I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I was exhausted, and distraught, and past reason.

"You should have been here!" I drew back from him and was on my feet in a second. "You left me to deal with this all alone! You and your precious Scotland Yard. It's more important to you than your family! Your children! You're never here! You weren't here when Jackie was born, or for his birthday! You were barely there when Heather was born! And now this!"

He was staring up at me; the man didn't even have the decency to stand up when someone was shouting at him.

"I've had enough of waiting for you to come home dead, and never seeing you, and everything at work being more important than your family. Get out! Just get out of here and leave us alone!" I was hysterical now, and hardly aware of what I was saying as the tears streamed down my face. Things I wasn't sure I felt and didn't really mean came tumbling out of me, accusations and threats that were specifically meant to hurt, and he was still until at last I had run out of words and could do nothing other than stand there and glare at him.

He stood then, and reached out to me. I stepped back. "Get away from me."

"Elisabeth-" He managed, and took another step forward. This time he caught me by the arm, and pulled me towards him. I struggled, and hit at him, trying to force him to let me go. He merely maneuvered me so that my back was against his chest and my arms were pinned by his.

"I should have been here." He agreed, his voice low in my ear. "I should have been here for you and for Jackie, and I'll never forgive myself for it."

Just like that, all the fight had gone out of me. "My baby-" I choked, and felt my husband's strong arms around me. "My poor little baby girl."

For the second time that night the two of us simply sank to the floor, too tired and distraught to care that we were sitting on the floor of the hall with our backs to the wall. My head lay against his chest and he held me while I cried myself out.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me.


	20. Chapter 20

I was starting to regret my bright idea of having the family in for Christmas. Granted, Kristina and her husband Joey were easy going enough to get along with anyone, and Mama and Papa were absolutely delighted to spend the holidays trying to spoil their grandson, and yes, my family and Giles' family _had _hit it off. There were no problems there.

No, the problem lay in the fact that my husband had spent most of December trying to hunt down and shut down a smuggling operation based here in London and had not been home much since even before the families came in, and the fact that my mother did not think very highly of the sort of man whose job was more important than his family.

Mama was convinced that Giles was one of that sort.

It had started with our marriage; Mama had never forgiven him for being late to his own wedding. It hadn't helped that the two times she and Papa had stopped by to visit since then he had also been out working, and the fact that he had been coming in late and leaving early since before they had arrived to spend Christmas with us only furthered this opinion.

I wasn't sure why she wanted him here anyway when all she did was snip at him when he was home, but Mama took more offence at his absence than she did at his presence, which was saying something.

I kept waiting for Kristina to come to her brother's defense and for the two of them to get into it, but of course that wasn't Kristina's way. If asked, she would only comment that Giles took both his responsibilities as a husband and father and as a member of the Yard seriously, and leave it at that.

Why I had thought it would be a good idea to do as we had always done growing up and invite the family in for an entire month was beyond me. I felt crowded, and as if I were always apologizing for my husband's absence, and it was starting to get to me.

I tried to remember if Mama and Papa had ever seemed stressed during the Christmas holidays. I remembered chaos, and a lot of people, but that was about it.

It was enough to make me glad that it was only my parents and Kristina and her husband, though, a thought that promptly left me feeling guilty. I didn't know what had happened to Giles' parents; they had never been a part of our life together, and he had never discussed it.

And then of course Giles had to go and disappear for what was now approaching four days. He had been very good about making it home at least once a day this month, so as not to alarm the rest of the family, but now he was missing, and I was running out of ways to avoid saying that sometimes my husband just got busy and didn't make it home.

Mama would have a fit over that.

At least Jack was distracting them again with his brilliance. It allowed me to hide in the kitchen for a few minutes.

I needed to get out. Away from well meaning family members who wanted to make me worry about why my husband was missing five days before Christmas.

I sighed. It wasn't going to happen. I would take this opportunity to pull myself back together, and then I would go back in there and spend time with my family.

There was a knock at the door; I went to answer it.

I was not ready to find a Constable on the other side.

"Hello?" I said, trying not to imagine the worst. "May I help you?"

The Constable nodded. He was nervous. He had not come with good news, then. He took a deep breath. "Inspector Lestrade is in the hospital." He informed me. "He and Inspector Gregson were both injured and in need of immediate care."

At least this time he had just spit it out. "How bad is it?" I asked.

The Constable sighed. "I'm not really supposed to say anything, Ma'am, but considering he's your husband and it being Christmas and all that, I think the worst of it is a broken foot. He's got some bruises and such too, but I think his foot is what they're worried most about."

I nodded. "Thank you. I don't suppose you have any idea if they'd mind me going to see him, do you?"

The Constable thought for a minute. "I think they're trying to find out what happened, but after that…you could probably go in tomorrow without having to worry about being in the way." He winced as he said it, but I understood, and smiled reassuringly.

"Well I won't keep you on the doorstep in this weather, Constable." I told him. "Would you like a cup of tea before you go?"

"No thank you, Ma'am. I'm on my way home, but the Inspector was worried about not being home himself, and I thought I'd ease his mind a bit."

"Thank you." I said. "Good night, Constable."

"Good night."

I closed the door and found myself leaning on it for support as I tried to figure out just what I was going to tell the family.

I entered the sitting room and decided bluntness was the way to go. "Giles is in the hospital with a broken foot." I informed them. "I plan to visit him there in the morning."

All four adults stopped what they were doing and stared at me as silence overtook the room.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys do not belong to me.


	21. Chapter 21

"You look terrible." I said. My husband didn't so much as blink.

"I feel terrible." He murmured weakly. "Nice to see you, though."

"What happened?" I couldn't help but ask. My husband almost looked like a corpse, lying there. A corpse that had met with a brutal and painful end. I didn't doubt he hadn't eaten since the last time he'd been home. He was probably dehydrated, as well, from the looks of him. Not that the hospital wasn't trying to set him straight.

My husband paled, and his dark eyes flickered away from mine. His breathing suddenly quickened, and he tensed in the bed.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to." I assured him, trying to keep my voice gentle. "I was just wondering what the chances were of them letting you come home soon."

Giles sighed. "I don't know." He admitted. "They're worried about…" He trailed off, afraid to voice whatever it was that was bothering him.

"Giles, look at me." I said gently, and waited for him to meet my eyes. "Right now I am here for _you_. You can tell me as much or as little as you like about what happened. If you need to talk, I am more than willing to listen; if it's not something you can deal with right now, I'm not going to force you. But don't feel like you have to tell or not tell me anything, love, or that I'll feel slighted or think any less of you for it."

At last a weary smile broke through that haunted mask. "Thank you." He murmured.

I leaned forward to brush his hair back from his forehead. "I'll go talk to your doctor about how long they plan on keeping you here, okay?"

He managed a nod. "Don't get your hopes up." He muttered.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys do not belong to me.


	22. Chapter 22

Miracle of miracles, they actually let my husband come home the day before Christmas, though that only after taking me aside and warning me that my husband was not in fit state for any kind of excitement, or stress, and that I was to keep a sharp eye on him regarding both his physical and mental state.

But they had agreed to let him come home, and banished to the couch though he was, the change in surroundings would certainly do him a world of good. Giles never _had_ liked hospitals.

He still had a haunted look about him, though he was sleeping now. The rest of the family was out, Christmas shopping, but would probably return soon. I could only hope my mother would not decide my husband's injuries were further proof that he was not a fit husband, or at least that she would keep such opinions to herself, for once.

I was in the kitchen when they returned, and didn't make it into the sitting room quite in time to rescue my husband from his son, who was delighted to see his father home and demonstrated as much by clambering up onto him as he lay on the couch.

Giles valiantly choked back whatever exclamation Jack had startled out of him and was trying to both sit up and get his son to stop bouncing up and down on him. "Lizzie." He whimpered as he caught sight of me.

I scooped my son up a second later. "Be gentle, Jackie." I told him. "Da's hurt." I plopped him on my hip. "You alright, dear?"

"Fine." Giles managed to gasp. "Hello, Jackie." The boy grinned and reached out to his father. "Sorry lad, not just now." He apologized.

Joey was quick to step in. "Come on, Jackie, we'll go wrap some of those presents we picked out, eh?" He took the boy from me and tossed him over his shoulder. Jackie shrieked loudly enough to make my husband wince, but was successfully distracted as Joey lumbered off upstairs with him.

Kristina eyed her brother. "So you're alive after all." She said brightly, as if not in the least surprised by the state he was in. "Now I don't have to figure out whether to send your gift back or not."

Giles almost laughed, and Kristina smiled.

"Glad you're alright, little brother." She said, patting him gently on the forehead. "We were starting to worry about you."

I didn't mention that he was not entirely alright at this point in time. I just hoped that eventually he would be.

Giles groaned. "Sorry. Gregson and I got-held up." He finished lamely. Kristina knew he was neglecting something, but thankfully did not ask what.

"At least you're here." She said firmly. I agreed with her wholeheartedly.

My mother did not. She started to say something, but my father shook his head. "Give the boy a break, dear." He admonished his wife. "He's been through it recently, in case you hadn't noticed."

She sniffed, but didn't say anything. I was grateful.

So was Giles, and he was worn enough that it actually showed.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me.


	23. Chapter 23

I was reluctant to leave Giles on his own, but it was no great feat to find work in the kitchen with which to occupy myself. I was not prepared, however, when Kristina found me there after the rest of the family went to bed, and wanted to know what had happened to her brother.

I told her what they had told me. "He and another Inspector were on a case, and were taken hostage by the gang they were after when a raid went bad." Kristina's lips pursed.

"And they broke his foot." She surmised.

"Among other things." I didn't have to spell it out for her. She shook her head.

"It's a wonder they let him come home." She said.

"I know. But he'll do better here than trapped in a hospital, and I've promised to keep in touch with the doctor. They don't know if he'll be able to walk again, though."

Kristina offered me a smile. "This is Giles we're talking about. He'll walk again if it kills him."

I let myself laugh, and nodded. "Thanks." I said. "It's hard, sometimes."

Kristina laughed at me. "I've known him longer than you have, Elisabeth. I know he's a trial to live with, no matter how you love him."

I sighed. "But it's not even that he's inconsiderate, or bad tempered, or any of the faults people expect. It's just that he's so devoted to the job, and sometimes it nearly kills him. One day it probably will."

"And yet you remain strong and encouraging and caring through it all." Kristina commented.

I couldn't look at her. "I just wonder, sometimes, if he notices, or if he's too tired when he comes in after midnight to realize that I've kept dinner warm since five when he said he'd be home."

Kristina pulled me into a hug. "He knows, Elisabeth. He may not say anything, but he knows how lucky he is." She smiled at me. "You're exhausted. Go to bed; I'll stay up with the old goat."

"Old goat?" That startled a laugh out of me. I hadn't heard that one before.

Kristina chuckled. "You didn't know? 'Giles' means goat. They used to call him goat boy when we were younger. Get some rest. I'll wake you if anything happens."

Reluctantly, I agreed. Kristina was not easily swayed once her mind was made up.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me.


	24. Chapter 24

I jolted awake and sat up in the bed, trying to figure out what had brought me out of my sleep. My heart was pounding in my ears as I sat and strained my ears, listening in the darkness for whatever had awakened me so abruptly.

I hear it again; a cry rang out in the darkness. I was out of bed and out in the hall and heading for the stairs. That was Giles.

I barely noticed the faces of the rest of the family as I passed them by. I practically flew down the stairs, trying to get to my husband.

He was dreaming, struggling against some unseen enemy.

"Giles." I called his name, but he didn't hear me. His struggles increased, and before I reached the couch he was struggling violently enough that he threw himself into the floor. "Giles!"

His eyes flew open as I knelt beside him, but it was several seconds before he seemed to see me. But his eyes finally met mine, for less than a second, and then he looked away, unwilling to let me see the fear and pain and near hysteria that I had caught a glimpse of in them.

I reached down, and helped him sit up, and pulled him close. "It's okay." I whispered, trying to calm him; his breathing was labored, and he was shaking. "It's all right."

He let himself lean his head against my shoulder. "Oh, Giles." My heart ached for my husband. I felt helpless, sitting there, especially as a muffled sob reached my ears.

I swallowed back tears of my own. All I could do was sit there in the sitting room floor and hold my husband, and tell him everything would be okay when in reality I didn't have a clue if _he_ would be or not.

And suddenly Kristina was there, helping me move Giles back to the couch. I sat, with his head and shoulders in my lap, trying to reassure him, and Kristina slipped away.

Eventually his breathing evened out, and he stopped shaking. He was still, finally, and quiet, and I thought perhaps he had gone back to sleep.

"I love you." I almost didn't hear him, his voice was so soft. "I don't tell you that nearly enough." He fell silent again. I sat there with him, stroking his dark hair.

"That last day, I didn't think we were going to make it, Lizzie." He spoke slowly, as if it took him a considerable effort. "Kept thinking about you, and all the things I meant to tell you but hadn't, and how much I just wanted to see you again, just one more time." He took a long, unsteady breath. "You deserve better than to spend Christmas Eve worrying about a man who takes off and leaves you alone while he's off doing the job." He added, his voice falling almost to a whisper.

"It's worth it," I told him, "to have you back, here in my arms." I leaned down to kiss him. "And I wouldn't want someone better, even if he did exist. I want you, Giles, Scotland Yard and all."

"Thank you." He said after a moment. "You're wonderful."

He was exhausted. I wondered, all the same, if he would actually go back to sleep tonight.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	25. Chapter 25

I was sitting upright on the couch, with my husband's head on my lap, when I woke up the next morning. It took me a few seconds to remember why.

Giles was asleep. I remained still, reluctant to wake him.

"I'll get breakfast, Elisabeth." Kristina was up. That must have been what had awakened me.

I didn't protest. If my husband had finally managed to go back to sleep last night and was resting peacefully, I wasn't about to risk waking him.

I could hear Kristina chattering as she moved around in my kitchen. I couldn't actually make out what she was saying, but it didn't matter; it was meant to be comforting more than anything else.

My parents soon stirred, and made their way into the sitting room. "Joey is getting Jackie dressed." My mother informed me. Papa smiled at me, and patted me on the shoulder, and the two of them retreated to the kitchen so as not to disturb Giles.

A few minutes later Joey passed through, carrying Jackie. They stopped so Jackie could say hello, and then they too took refuge in the kitchen.

After breakfast everybody congregated in the sitting room, and quietly tried to figure out what to do about Christmas.

It was, after all, Christmas Day.

Nobody really wanted to wake Giles up, though, not after last night.

"Let him sleep." My mother finally said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Your husband is no coward, Elisabeth, but _something_ woke us up last night. Whatever happened, he needs rest, and Christmas is all day. We can wait for him to wake up on his own."

I couldn't help the smile that was spreading across my face as she finished her speech. Of course, everyone in the room knew full well she would never have said something like that in front of him, but it was still appreciated.

I appreciated it, at any rate.

So it was decided. We would wait.

That was when the first of the carolers showed up and started bellowing Christmas songs outside the door.

Giles stirred even as Kristina darted towards the door and threw it open. His eyes flickered open, and flew from one family member to another.

"Merry Christmas!" Joey said with a big smile before things could get awkward. Mama and Papa quickly followed suit, and Kristina chimed in from the door with "Carolers!"

"Morning, dear." I said as he struggled to sit up. "Merry Christmas."

"Joey was just going to drop your son on you." Kristina lied. "He wants to open his presents. Do you still like caroling?"

He nodded distractedly, still not quite awake, and Kristina stepped outside. A minute later she returned, five ragged looking carolers in tow.

_"God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay_

_Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day_

_To save us all from Satan's power, when we were gone astray_

_Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy_

_Oh, tidings of comfort and joy."_

Presents were exchanged after the carolers had left; I was touched, and so was Giles. Mama had gotten him a cane for Christmas, insisting that he would need something when he first got back on his feet.

Kristina winked at Giles. "Hear that, now she thinks you're a lousy lay about." She teased. "Spending so much time taking up space on the couch."

Mama humped, but she liked Kristina, even if she didn't like her brother. "Well, we certainly wouldn't want him to have an excuse." She said primly.

Giles actually smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Lindgren." He said, and he meant it. My mother actually returned the smile.

It was Christmas after all.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	26. Chapter 26

I have to admit, I was grateful when the family finally left. It meant I could pay more attention to my husband without feeling guilty for ignoring our guests.

The doctor, on the other hand, was another matter.

"He hasn't been sleeping well." I admitted. Giles was still on the couch, too tired and weak even now to do much more than lie there and be miserable and not sleep. And when he did eventually drift off, his sleep was troubled, enough that he would cry out and eventually wake up rather distraught. "He hasn't tried to be up yet, either."

The doctor didn't seem surprised by the latter, but he didn't know my husband. "May I speak with your husband?" He asked gently, as if I might break if he didn't speak to me carefully.

"If he wishes to speak with you." I replied. He didn't like that.

"Mrs. Lestrade-"

"If he wishes to speak with you." I said again, cutting off whatever he had been going to say. He may have been a doctor, and certainly knew more medicine than I did, but Giles didn't care for doctors, for whatever reason, and if this one's presence were unwelcome today, I was not about to force him on my husband, not with the way he was feeling lately. "Wait here." I said firmly, and the doctor seemed to realize I would throw him out if he even considered arguing.

I couldn't tell if my husband had dozed off or was simply too tired to keep his eyes open. "Giles." I said softly. He stirred, and opened his eyes.

"Mmmm?" He replied wearily.

"The doctor's here. He'd like to speak with you." My husband didn't answer right away, so I added, "I can tell him to come back later."

He shook his head. "No, thank you, Lizzie. I might as well talk to him."

"I'll show him in. Would you like me to stay?" Another shake of his head. "I'll be in the kitchen, then. You can yell if you need me."

I led the doctor in and excused myself, but noted that my husband was already trying to pull himself together in the presence of the doctor. I wondered if the man would see through the façade, just as I wondered if there would ever be a doctor my husband didn't fear or dislike.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	27. Chapter 27

I was starting to wonder if this had been a good idea. It had seemed like it at the time, but…

There had been a knock on the door, earlier today, and I had opened the door to find a red-headed, rather mischievous looking young man standing on my porch, grinning behind his beard.

"Mrs. Lestrade, I presume?" He asked with a bow and a tip of his hat, green eyes twinkling.

"Yes, may I help you?" I asked cautiously. I had no idea who this was, and though he seemed nice enough, one could never be too careful with strangers.

"Yes, well, how is your husband?" He asked.

I wondered if this man were from Scotland Yard. "He's still recovering." I said vaguely.

"Archie!" I heard the exasperated call of a woman behind him. He turned, and we both watched the raven haired woman dismount from the cab and make her way to join us on the steps. She rolled her eyes at the man, then smiled at me.

"You'll have to excuse my husband, he was born in a barn and raised with the pigs. No manners at all, though he means well."

"Sorry." The man apologized with a chuckle. "My name is Archibald Stewart. This is my wife, Theresa. As to what we are doing here…"

"Archie is a close friend of Mr. Gregson's." Mrs. Stewart explained. "We've been looking after him, so to speak, since his injury. Since it's a nice, lovely day today, we thought we'd drag him off to the park, figuring that it would do him some good to get out, and then of course we thought we might see if perhaps Mr. Lestrade, and yourself as well, of course, might be able to use some fresh air as well."

"And here we are." Mr. Stewart finished up.

I considered their offer. It might actually do my husband some good to get out of the house, and it would most certainly be good for him to see that his fellow Inspector was recovering. I smiled.

"Let me get him ready." I said. "It might take a few minutes."

"Take as long as you need." Mr. Stewart replied brightly.

And I had bundled my recovering husband out the door. Upon reaching the park, Giles had gravitated towards the nearest bench, and we had let him, and I had sat on a blanket the Stewarts had brought and kept an eye on him while I talked to the couple and Mrs. Stewart fussed over Jackie.

We had considered it a success when Inspector Gregson, after hesitating for a moment by the blanket, had gone over to sit with my husband. We had been even more pleased when a second later he asked Giles a question, and the man answered.

Now, with Gregson murmuring another question while a smug expression lined his features, and my husband scowling as he made some angry retort, I found myself wondering if the two Inspectors even liked each other.

I also found myself wondering if this had been a good idea after all.

Mr. Stewart was also starting to look concerned. "I say, should I go over there and intervene?" He asked his wife.

Mrs. Stewart shook her head. "Not unless you think one of them's going to hit the other. That's the most energy I've seen out of Mr. Gregson so far."

I had to concede that much. My husband hadn't even been up to arguing with the doctor. Now that he was sitting there, apparently arguing with the other Inspector, he actually seemed to have some life to him.

Nonetheless, I would have gone over there myself in another minute, had my husband not swallowed nervously and the two of them not suddenly looked very serious. They spoke quietly then, both with expressions that were too strained to be the neutral that they were going for.

They were talking about whatever had happened, then. That was good. I knew Giles needed to talk about it with somebody, and he had not been able, so far, to discuss it with me.

Mr. Gregson went from serious back to taunting not much later, and soon he and my husband were again snapping at each other once more.

We let it go on for a little bit longer before intervening and saying it was time to go home; both of them were starting to look rather pale and more than a bit weary.

The excursion appeared to have done my husband some good, however; tired though he was, he looked more like himself as he took his place on the couch, and even put forth enough energy to tentatively ask about dinner.

I smiled, and told him it would be ready when it was ready. It didn't take me long, however to throw something small together for him; we had, after all, missed lunch when we had gone out with the Stewarts and Inspector Gregson.

I returned to find that Jackie had crawled up onto the couch with him, and that he was holding the boy carefully in his lap. I traded him the food for the boy, much to Jackie's dismay, and watched as my husband seemed to have an appetite for the first time in quite a while.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	28. Chapter 28

"You didn't come just to visit, Gregson." My husband declared as I showed the other Inspector into the room. Inspector Gregson responded by delivering a glare at my husband.

"Maybe I wanted to see how you were doing." He retorted.

"You don't like me that much." Giles retorted, waving the man to take a seat beside him on the couch.

"True enough." Gregson conceded as he sat down. "Maybe I got tired of people waiting for me to crack if they said the wrong thing or standing there waiting for me to collapse on them." He admitted.

"So you came looking for me?" My husband snorted.

"Well I know _you_ don't care; I don't have to worry about getting any pity from you." Gregson shot back. These two definitely didn't care for each other, then. Inspector Gregson could just watch himself, or he'd be shown out quickly enough.

But my husband laughed, and asked if I would mind getting us some tea; he still wasn't up and about much yet. I was relieved that for once my husband seemed to be listening to the doctor as far as letting himself recover.

I nodded, and as I headed for the kitchen I could hear Giles ask Inspector Gregson, "So you're back at work?"

"Officially." I could still hear them in the kitchen. "But everyone wants to treat me like an invalid, and coddle me about, after what happened. How long do you think you'll be out?"

My husband didn't answer right away. "They're still waiting to see if I'll be able to walk well enough; they don't need a cripple down at the Yard."

"You were injured in the line of duty." Gregson's voice lowered.

"That has nothing to do with it, and you know it. I'm not going to go hobbling around like some useless-"

"You think it'll come to that?"

"I don't know; it's not healing straight. How badly it effects how I walk is yet to be seen."

The two had fallen into silence by the time I returned with the tea. Gregson thanked me for the cup, but apparently he and my husband were done talking. They drank their tea in silence.

Gregson stood when they were finished, and said he had to be getting home. Giles nodded, and said goodbye, and I led the other Inspector out. In the doorway he paused, and turned back to my husband, a smirk on his lips.

"I'll tell the boys you're getting lonely, shall I? Send a couple over to visit?"

"Don't you dare." My husband growled in response. Gregson laughed and continued on his way. I shook my head; the relationship these two seemed to have developed was an odd one.

They didn't care for each other, and even seemed to get on each other's nerves, but for all that, Gregson's visit had been a comfort to my husband this evening, and I had a feeling that Gregson had gotten something out of the visit as well.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's note: Hey, I have a website! With pictures of the characters. You should totally check it out. The link is in my profile. Thanks, and on with the next chapter.

* * *

My husband groaned as he all but collapsed on the couch. Gingerly he maneuvered his foot to rest on the couch as well, though he hadn't even taken his shoes off yet. His first day back on the job had been a rough one, then.

"How's your foot?" I asked.

"It aches." He replied. "The cane helps, but then again it only adds to the looks I keep getting from people. Adams tried to hold the door open for me, and Smith offered to bring me a cup of tea!" He glared at the ceiling. "And the Superintendent is still waiting for me to crack, and that filters down to the Constables, so when I went to ask Jenkins a question, he about jumped out of his shoes, like he expected me to hit him!"

"What about Gregson?" I asked, curious.

"Oh, they think Gregson's going to crack too." Lestrade shook his head. "They thought he'd lost it when he informed me that it was about time I quit lazing about and got back to work, and Adams was trying to decide if he'd have to get between us when I told him that I had to come back, that they needed someone around who actually _would_ work."

I laughed. "So you two are glad to both be back, then." I said. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes." He replied. "Definitely."

He was fine, then. His foot had healed, with only the slightest inward twist as a result of his injury, and that had not been enough to keep him from returning to Scotland Yard. He was tired, his foot ached, and he was still using the cane mother had given him for support, but he was happy.

He had been afraid he wouldn't be able to go back, though he had said nothing of it to me. I knew it anyway, and was as glad as he to find that his injury had not left the work he so loved closed to him.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	30. Chapter 30

Author's note: Sorry, I know it's been a while, but you know how writer's block is. Hopefully, though, it has let up for a while, so here I am, writing again, and here is the next chapter of this, and hopefully there's more stuff on the way, including a short story featuring Inspector Gregson. I hope you enjoy, and I apologize again for making you wait.

* * *

My husband had a distracted air about him as he sat down to dinner. He was unusually quiet while he ate, and even Jackie seemed to pick up on the fact that his father's thoughts were not on us. The child thought about being put out, then shrugged and decided to make the best of it and asked if he could have Giles' bread. Giles nodded absently, and Jackie smiled and lifted the piece off his plate.

I waited.

Jackie bit into it, and chewed, happily at first, then increasingly slowly. He considered the thick slice of bread for a moment, then looked up at me guiltily. A second later he returned the remainder of the bread to his father's plate.

"I'm not as hungry as I thought I was." He declared. Then he looked at me. "May I be excused?"

His plate was empty, so I let him go. "Put your dishes in the sink." I told him.

"Yes, Mama." He said.

I waited a few more minutes before demanding my husband's attention. "Well?" I asked.

Giles blinked. "What?" He asked, shaking his head as he came back to the present.

I laughed. "Did something happen at work?" I asked. "You seem distracted."

"Oh." He shrugged. "I guess I am, but I was just thinking, love."

I waited.

Giles ran a hand through his hair. "That case I was called out of bed for last night?" I nodded. "Patterson called in an amateur to help."

"An amateur." I repeated.

"Right." He said. "Well, the man came in, took one look around and demanded to know who was in charge, as if they had some explaining to do. I went over and hadn't even introduced myself before he started sizing me up. As if he could know everything about me just by looking. I introduced myself, and he basically accused me of being incompetent, and the Yard of being incompetent as well, and started walking around the room, just _looking_. He went over every inch of that room, Lizzie, as if it could tell him exactly what had happened there.

"Then he came over and proceeded to tell me what had happened and who had done it, as certain and sure as if he had seen it himself. I've never seen the like, Lizzie. He figured out who had murdered the man just by _looking around the room_." My husband shook his head and was quiet for a bit, still thinking. "I asked Patterson why I hadn't heard of him before; apparently his abrasive nature has made him a few enemies down at the Yard. But the man's a genius, Lizzie. And when I offhandedly mentioned that we could have used his help with that jewel robbery we still hadn't solved he promptly declared that the woman's doctor did it, and assured me that he could prove it as well."

He shook his head. "I've never seen anything like it. He makes me feel like an idiot just by standing there listening to him. He's that smart."

"And the yard doesn't like his help?" I asked.

Giles scoffed. "They don't like feeling like a bunch of idiots. And they don't like being shown up by an _amateur_. He could help us get that jewel thief, no doubt about it."

He fell silent again. I waited.

"But?" I pressed, when he didn't go on.

My husband sighed. "But he's not popular down at the Yard. Most of the Yarders who have met him before can't stand him. They say he's arrogant and conceited."

"Is he?" I asked.

Giles shrugged. "He's good, and he knows it. And he knows the rest of us can't compete with him but seems to expect us to at the same time." He frowned. "The Superintendent seems to have taken the fact that he's an amateur personally as well. He told Patterson the Yard would pay the consulting fee this time, but he didn't want him calling this Mr. Holmes fellow back."

Ah. I understood now. "But he didn't tell _you_ not to, and there's the matter of this jewel robbery."

"I've got nothing." My husband growled. "Nothing. The thief will get away. Mr. Holmes could stop him. He knows something I don't."

"The Yard won't pay him for his time." I guessed at the other problem with calling the man in. Giles nodded.

"I won't ask him to work for free. He doesn't look like he can afford it." Giles glared at his plate. I knew perfectly well what he was debating, just as I knew he wasn't about to say it aloud. And I knew this was the real issue. He didn't care if he upset the Superintendent or not, not when it came to doing his job.

I smiled. "Go get your jewel thief, Giles." I told him, and he looked up. Our eyes met; gratitude flashed in his. I rolled my eyes at him. "We can't have jewel stealing doctors running free in London, now can we?" I demanded, somehow managing not to laugh as I said it.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	31. Chapter 31

Author's note: I make mention, in the beginning of the story _The Case of the Missing Girls_, of Lestrade storming off on Holmes after consulting him concerning a jewel robbery. Here's just a little closer look at that, though it still leaves a lot to be explained (Lestrade still isn't giving me all the details, unfortunately).

* * *

My husband came home fuming.

Very rarely did Giles come home from work angry; even more rarely was the occasion that he came home muttering dark oaths under his breath and glaring at nothing. I was not, however, sure if I had ever seen him quite this angry before.

I had heard the front door slam as my husband returned home. Giles didn't slam doors. Not when he was angry, not when he was in a hurry, not when he was injured or ill or only half conscious. It was simply not something the man did.

He didn't swear at his hat and coat as he hanged them up either, yet there he was, in the hall, snarling at his coat and insulting his hat.

He stalked past me as if he hadn't even noticed me standing there in the hallway. He cursed rudely at the couch as he passed by, though mercifully he did not speak loudly enough for his son to understand what he was saying. Jackie looked up at his father as he stormed into the kitchen, then at me, and wisely decided that now was not the time to tackle his father and tell him about his day. Instead he went back to playing with his blocks.

By the time I reached the kitchen my husband was growling at the dirty dishes. He was also washing them, scrubbing them vehemently and glaring at them as if they had committed some offence against him. I wondered what on earth had happened, to upset him like this. I also wondered whether it would be better to leave him alone until he were a little calmer, or at least until the dishes were done.

I decided against waiting, and stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Bad day?" I asked, and tried not to flinch at the string of profanity that escaped him before he cut it off and actually answered me.

"We caught the jewel thief." He informed me angrily.

"That's good, isn't it?" I asked carefully. I was rewarded with another growl. "So what happened?"

He tensed and fell silent, but didn't stop fighting with the dishes. "Nothing I shouldn't have expected." He finally admitted, taking a step back from the sink and relinquishing his grip on the dishrag.

"The Superintendent wasn't pleased." I guessed.

Giles sighed. "He chewed me out. Twice. Once in front of Mr. Holmes and two Constables, the second time in front of most of Scotland Yard."

"He was making an example of you." Giles nodded.

"He said that if that was the only way I could get any cases solved, then perhaps I should consider a career outside of the Yard." He said flatly.

I winced. "He really _doesn't _like this Holmes character." I commented. "Anything else?"

Giles forced himself to shrug. "Just a dozen or so insults from Mr. Holmes regarding my incompetency and inability to even handle the simplest of investigations without bungling the whole affair up to the point that it is almost unsalvageable." He said lightly, trying not to admit to himself how much the words stung.

I was silent for a moment, working out what best to say. "_Are_ you incompetent?" I finally asked.

My husband sighed. "Standing next to Mr. Holmes-"

I cut him off. "Mr. Holmes is another matter entirely. Are you incompetent at your job, Giles?"

He turned to look at me. "No." He said quietly. "They wouldn't have promoted me if I weren't at least _somewhat_ capable. And they wouldn't have kept me on if I weren't good at what I do."

"Okay, then." I said. "You do your job, and you usually get your man, even if it means accepting your limitations and asking for help and being unpopular with your fellow Yarders. What this Holmes says, or what anyone says, _including_ your daft Superintendent, doesn't make the slightest bit of difference in your actual ability. Enough of this nonsense with you trying to compare yourself to your 'Mr. Holmes' or acting like your Superintendent is always going to like you. You know better than that, Giles."

He had been staring past me as I had spoken, refusing to meet my eyes. But now he did, and he offered a tentative smile. He knew I was right. "That's better. I'd hate to have to knock some sense into you."

He almost laughed. "What would I do without you?" He murmured softly. I stared at him.

"Nothing." I said. "You would have bled to death on my father's front porch. Or frozen." I added, as an afterthought. "It was terribly cold that night." My husband did laugh that time. I smiled at him. "Now leave the dishes alone and go let your son tell you about all the trouble he got into today." I ordered.

He obeyed, leaving me to wonder about this Sherlock Holmes, who could be so critical of others, and speak so thoughtlessly, and yet my husband seemed to think highly enough of him to care what the man thought about him, and to wonder if his accusations were not, after all, somewhat valid.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	32. Chapter 32

Author's note: This takes place during my story _The Case of the Missing Girls_, just so you know.

* * *

"Been swimming again?" I asked as I realized my husband was changing out of clothes that were dripping wet and smelled of river.

"I have to go back out." He informed me. "I won't be back until sometime after dark." He was dressing again, quickly. "They handed that case with the disappearing girls over to me, and with only four hours left on the latest deadline." Unspoken was the complaint that that was almost too late to do anything, and the question of why they would wait so long, not to mention probably a few words not fit to be uttered aloud in the presence of, well, anyone.

"You went to see Mr. Holmes." He nodded.

"We found her. The tide was coming in, and I had to go in after her." He explained. Well, that was why he was wet. At least it was for a good cause.

"Do you have time for a bit of dinner before you leave?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Inspector Smith sent me home to change. He said he didn't want me leaving any more water around the Yard." He was still technically on duty, then. I resisted the urge to suggest that maybe we should just move in down at the Yard and save everyone the trouble of pretending that my husband wasn't on duty even during his off hours. He wouldn't have to worry about running home to change after someone had dumped him in the river or he'd gotten blood all over his shirt or something equally unpleasant either.

"Good for him." I said. "You have time for some tea." I decided. My husband didn't argue with that, or when I dosed him to make sure he didn't end up sick after his dip in the river. "Why don't you just start keeping a spare change of clothes in your office?" I asked as I handed over the teacup.

"It's not a bad idea." He admitted as he quickly downed his tea, and then kissed me on the cheek. "I'll try not to be too late." He said. "Mr. Holmes wants to catch the man responsible for the disappearances tonight." There was disapproval in his voice; something was going on there that he didn't like, but he didn't explain.

"I'll save you some dinner." I told him as he headed for the door.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	33. Chapter 33

Author's note: And another chapter takes inspiration from another story. This is just after _The Excessive Shooting_.

* * *

"Gregson met Mr. Holmes today." My husband informed me idly, as we sat down to dinner. "He was impressed, enough so to decide that the Superintendent's daft for not wanting his help."

"Hmm." I said thoughtfully. "So if Gregson starts asking this Mr. Holmesbbbfor help too, does that change anything?"

Giles shrugged. "It'll make people think, but Gregson will be reluctant to go to him. He probably won't need help as often either. There's a reason the man has a reputation for being the smartest of us."

"You're pretty smart yourself." I pointed out. Giles simply laughed.

"Gregson's had a better education, and he's certainly better read. He's also rather good at reasoning things out. For that reason, he and Mr. Holmes will not cross paths very often." He shrugged. "And I don't care, either. As long as the job gets done in the end."

"By the way," I said, after a moment, "I have some news."

"Oh?" He replied, looking up from his plate.

I started to tell him, but Jackie beat me to it. "I'm gonna have a baby brother!" He shrieked, grinning madly. Giles looked at his son for a minute, then his gaze drifted over to me.

"Really?" He asked. I nodded.

"A girl, actually." Jackie pouted at my declaration. Giles simply shrugged. Girl or boy, it didn't matter to him which it was, so long as it-

So long as it was healthy, so long as it lived. The near panic that glinted in his eyes didn't disappear quickly enough for me not to see it, but I didn't let on that I had. He had every right to be worried, I supposed, though I would have preferred a reaction similar to the delight he had exhibited when we had found out about Jackie.

My husband pushed away his concerns and grinned. He _was_ pleased, even if he happened to be a little worried as well.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	34. Chapter 34

Author's note: I know it's been a while on this story since I updated. Sorry. I just couldn't think of anything to write. Hopefully, though, I'm back on it.

* * *

I tried to decide whether to laugh or sigh at the shrieks of laughter and sounds of a scuffle coming from my son's bedroom. _I'll put him to bed._ Ridiculous.

A knock sounded at the door, and I went to answer it. Inspector Gregson was there, with a look on his face that I had come to recognize as apologetic and meant that he would soon be taking my husband away from me. I smiled anyway, and greeted the Inspector.

"Good evening, Inspector Gregson." I said politely. "I suppose you want to speak with Giles." He nodded, and I stepped back from the door. "Come on in. He's upstairs, allegedly putting Jackie to bed."

There was a loud thump from the bedroom at about that time, and a shriek from my son. The sound was also accompanied by a shout from Giles.

"Help! Lizzie, your son is trying to kill me!" I bit back a laugh as Mr. Gregson looked both horrified and shocked at the outburst.

"He's your son too!" I reminded him. "You said it wouldn't be any trouble to put him to bed!" I grinned at Mr. Gregson to let him know everything was all right, and realized that the more relaxed side of my husband, the side that enjoyed roughhousing with his son, was apparently not something they were aware of down at the Yard.

"He says he isn't tired!" Giles shouted back. "He says he slept all day!"

I laughed. "He's gotten over that cold, then, if he feels like being up." I said to Mr. Gregson, who still looked as if he had walked in on my husband in the middle of something far more private than not putting his son to bed.

The other Inspector cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Lestrade, but I'm afraid this is rather important."

"Of course." I assured him, and turned my attention back to the noise upstairs. "Giles, you have a visitor!" I called.

My husband appeared on the steps, his son thrown over his shoulder. "I told him he can stay up, but not to expect to be allowed to sleep all day." He informed me as they made their way downstairs.

"And I'll have to deal with him tomorrow, no doubt." I teased. Giles smiled and set the boy down. Jackie took off into the living room as soon as his feet were on the ground.

"What can I do for you, Inspector?" My husband had noticed Gregson, who was still open mouthed, gaping like a fish at the scene he had just witnessed. Giles was all business as Gregson tried to pull himself together; the loving husband and father was gone and all that remained was the Yarder.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	35. Chapter 35

"It's a girl." I told my husband as he stumbled into the bedroom. He grunted in acknowledgment of my presence as he went to the closet and began rifling through his clothing.

"We did decide on Amelia, right?" I called, trying to get his attention. I fought back a wave of annoyance as it didn't work. "Don't you want to hold her?" I asked.

"Hmm?" He looked my way. "Better not." He replied absently. "I don't want to bleed on her."

"All right, then." I said wearily. "Maybe later." He found what he was looking for and crossed the room rapidly, a clean, dark shirt in hand.

Giles froze in the door at about the same time I sat up.

"Bleed on her?" I demanded.

"Hold her?" He replied, baffled.

It had been a _long_ day.

"Your daughter." I announced, nodding towards the blonde bundle in my arms. "Amelia."

"I should have been here." He apologized immediately. Then he answered my question. "One of our forgers had a knife on him. Tried to stab Inspector Smith." He shrugged, then winced. "It's not a deep cut," he assured me, "but I don't have time to get it taken care of right now."

"You have to be back at the Yard?" I asked. Giles sighed. It was all the answer I needed. "At least come and say hello to your daughter." I ordered, and husband smiled as he obeyed.

"Hello, Amy." He said softly. "Welcome to the family." He allowed himself another smile. The he leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead before darting for the door.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	36. Chapter 36

Author's note: Tanks again to mrspencil, for all her wonderful ideas, one more of which this little piece happens to be.

* * *

Though the sight of my son Jackie settled on his father's back was enough to cause the men Giles worked with to stare, and the fact that he was also carrying our baby girl in his arms at the same time would have been enough to send Dr. Mills into a fit, the spectacle attracted little notice at the grocery store we regularly frequented.

In fact, overworked mothers sent their own husbands, if they were there, accusing glances or me, if they were alone and dragging their children with them, looks of envy. The occasional prim and proper lady or gentleman would be scandalized, other people's children would stop and giggle, and indulgent grandparents would smile at the sight before a few would scoop up their own grandchildren.

The shopkeeper himself would chuckle and tease my husband a bit, and Giles would good-naturedly point out that it was better than letting the boy run loose in the store. Mr. Lowell would fervently agree with him.

It left me to carry the groceries, but there was no doubt that I had the easier job of the two of us, and anyway, it gave Giles a little more time with his children. His work kept him busy, and so even a trip to the grocer's was greeted as a chance to spend time with his family rather than a chore that he was being dragged along on.

Then there was the fact that when we stopped by the butcher's on the way home the man never tried to convince _Giles_ that bad meat was perfectly good, or that he was offering us a special deal when he was really trying to swindle us. He always dealt straight with my husband. I was still trying to convince Giles that the man was untrustworthy.

I was trying to figure out if we needed to buy more tea, and my husband was trying to remember if he had had any before coming up to bed last night. "I got in late, but it wasn't a trying case." He frowned at a child who was trying to nick an apple as he thought. The child returned the apple and darted off to find his mother. "It was late. I just wanted to go to bed."

"So you wouldn't have gone for a cup." I agreed. He shook his head. "I know we still had some last week, but I don't know how much we've used since then."

"Tuesday night." He offered. "I had a cup then. And Thursday morning…" He trailed off, his attention now on Mr. Lowell, who seemed to be trying to tell him something through the use of gestures. "Come on down now, Jackie." He murmured, and the boy didn't need to be told twice. "Stay with your mother." He offered me our daughter.

I took her in one arm, maneuvering my shopping basket out of the way, and watched my husband slip away from us and towards a man who I quickly realized did not intend to pay for the items he was slipping into his coat.

I stifled a sigh as my husband stepped behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. They spoke for a few seconds, and Giles must have introduced himself as 'Inspector Lestrade' because the other man suddenly shoved my husband backwards and made a break for it.

Giles was after him in a second, shouting for him to stop. The man did not comply, but lost a few precious seconds when he looked back over his shoulder. I winced as my husband tackled the man and they both went down.

Giles was up again in a second and slapping a pair of cuffs on the man. "Stay there." He growled, and headed for the door. He stepped outside, and a second later I heard the sound of a police whistle being blown.

My son was staring at his father as he returned and relieved the man of his ill gotten gains. So was everybody else. Giles either didn't notice or had chosen to ignore his audience. Knowing him, it was likely the latter.

"Wow." Jackie breathed as two Constables appeared on the scene. "Da's a hero."

I smiled and made a note to mention that to Giles later. It would make him feel good, and hopefully would distract him from the fact that he had made a spectacle of himself in the grocery store today.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	37. Chapter 37

Author's note: This another one of those delightful ideas suggested to me by mrspencil. I only hope I did it justice. Thanks yet again.

* * *

I did not usually descend upon my husband's place of work, especially not when I knew he had been busy. The message from the doctor that had apparently sewn him up yesterday, however, was enough to lead me to make the trip down to Scotland Yard.

An Inspector Smith was kind enough to stop long enough to point me in the direction of my husband before continuing briskly on his way. I found Giles in the middle of a discussion with several people, or perhaps several different conversations with said men. He did not immediately notice my arrival.

I called his name as he turned and began to stride off; he spun about, caught sight of me, and managed not to frown. "Lizzie?" He asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Two of his companions demanded his attention, and he was not entirely successful in fighting back a sigh.

"Sit." He said, pointing. "There." He was off before I had a chance to open my mouth, leaving me alone in the busy station.

I sat down on the bench to wait for my husband. It seemed the better alternative to trying to dodge the people rushing around.

"Meet Inspector Lestrade." I started as I realized there was someone beside me, and that he was handcuffed to the arm of the bench.

He offered me a rather charming smile. "Nothing to worry about, ma'am." He assured me. "I may be a criminal, but I know to treat a lady proper. Besides, I'm not about to get in trouble with the law for harming a lady, even if I were so inclined."

"Oh?" I managed. The man nodded.

"That Lestrade, there, bad luck you had to pick him. There's no pity or kindness in the man. No give in him either. Can't bargain with him, can't reason with him, can't plea with him."

"And I'll tell you this," the man went on, warming to his subject, "there's no use in resisting arrest, he'll just shoot you without thinking twice about it. My partner now, I told him not to open fire, that the Inspector had a gun, but he just wouldn't listen to me. He's dead now, and I nearly went that way too, just for being there. Nasty piece of work, he is. Dangerous. You watch your step around him, ma'am."

I resisted the urge to smile at this criminal's apparent concern for my dealings with _Inspector Lestrade_. It was almost amusing.

The news that my husband had shot someone, on the other hand, was unsettling. I knew his job was dangerous, and I knew that he carried a gun, but the thought of him shooting someone had just never occurred to me, though it probably should have.

Behind us someone cleared his throat. The handcuffed man and I turned, and he went pale. Inspector Gregson stood behind us.

"Inspector." I greeted the man calmly. "My husband was busy and asked me to wait here." The man beside me turned, if it were possible, even whiter.

"I didn't touch her, Inspector, I swear!" He declared, his eyes wide. "You can tell her husband that too, I'm not-"

"He hasn't bothered me." I assured Mr. Gregson, cutting the panicking man off.

The Inspector looked somewhat relieved, but quickly hid it. "Perhaps you might be more comfortable waiting in my office, Mrs. Lestrade." He offered. "I will inform your husband of where you are."

"Excellent idea!" The man beside me added his opinion. The Inspector shot him a look, and he slouched despondently in his seat.

"Thank you." I said, standing. The Inspector led me through the busy station and to his office, where he left me sitting with a cup of tea.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	38. Chapter 38

My son looked up from the floor where he had been playing with his blocks as his father sank gratefully onto the couch. I watched as he waited for his father to sigh, and for some of the stress from the day's work to disperse before he actually ventured to speak.

"Da? Can we get a dog?" He asked.

My husband blinked. Then he looked over at his son. "No." He said, without even considering the matter.

My son was quiet for a moment, trying to think of an argument for his cause. "They're great for protection." He suggested.

"So are policemen." Giles countered without missing a beat.

Jackie frowned for a minute. "The Gregson's have one." He tried.

"They also have a two year old boy." My husband replied. "Do you want one of them too?"

I stifled a laugh as our son brightened considerably. "A little brother? Yes, please."

Giles actually stared at his son for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and wearily sank back into the couch. "No." He said. "Absolutely not."

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	39. Chapter 39

I stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk, all previous thoughts of crossing the street gone, replaced by the sight of my husband walking down the street, arm in arm with another woman.

I ignored the protests from those forced to walk around me and stared. Giles was chatting amiably, for him, with the rather pretty young lady on his arm, and she in turn seemed quite taken with my husband.

I wondered if I should confront the two. They both appeared to be enjoying themselves on their walk. I wondered what explanation my husband might offer for his familiar treatment of this woman.

I was a bit confused as I recognized the man that nodded to my husband and his companion as they passed each other. It was Inspector Gregson.

I watched the Inspector continued down the street as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, and recognized the man he did _not_ acknowledge as a Constable from the Yard.

The man lingering on the corner looked rather familiar as well, now that I thought about it.

My husband must have been on a case, then. I turned and forced myself to start walking back down the street, away from my husband and the woman at his arm.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	40. Chapter 40

My husband wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed my cheek. I hadn't even heard him come in.

"You're early." I murmured. "Dinner isn't ready yet." My husband pulled me back from the sink, closer to him.

"Jackie feeling all right?" Giles asked, his voice soft.

"He was up before the sun." I assured him. "He's just tired."

"And Amy?"

"Burbling and making nonsense noises all day." I said, leaning my head to touch his. "She's such a happy little thing." I felt rather than heard him laugh. "How was your day?" I struggled to keep my voice at the same level it had been.

"We got our man." He caught himself. "Well, woman, actually."

"A woman." I repeated. I felt Giles nod.

"It happens now and again." He informed me quietly. "We set her up this morning. She caught the arm of someone she thought was a potential buyer for the stolen goods. It turned out to be an Inspector. Me."

I swallowed before I spoke. "So you were walking arm in arm with another woman in the line of duty." I said, and Giles resisted the urge to fidget. "Are you feeling _guilty_ for just that, or is there more to it?"

"Just that." My husband whispered. I smiled.

"If that is all, Giles, you've nothing to be sorry for." I told him firmly. "And anyway, it's considered polite for a gentleman to offer a lady his arm."

I felt my husband relax, and forced back a laugh at how such a little thing had worried him. I turned around to face my husband, and wrapped my arms around his neck as his moved down to circle my waist. He kissed me slowly, gently.

We pulled apart; I turned to check on dinner. "Would you get the children, Giles?" I asked, my voice suddenly loud in my ears. "Dinner's about ready."

He nodded and turned to go. "Giles?" I called after him. He paused in the doorway.

"Yes, dear?" He asked, his voice still low.

I took a deep breath. "I saw you." I confessed. "At the stakeout."

Giles turned. "I know," he said softly, reassuring. "I know." He smiled, then continued through the door to go get the children ready. I smiled to myself and turned my attention back to our supper.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	41. Chapter 41

My husband took one look at me and left. I sank back onto the couch with a groan, telling myself that I needed to get up and take care of my sick children, that I didn't have time to be sick, and that Giles would just have to fix his own breakfast this morning, which was apparently what he had gone off to do.

I was still in the same spot on the couch, absolutely miserable, when my husband reappeared, a cup of tea in hand. He set the steaming mug on the table and came over to where I had all but collapsed earlier.

He put a gentle arm around me and maneuvered me into a more comfortable position. Then he handed me the tea and kissed me on the forehead. "I'll see to the children, love." He said softly, as if reluctant to disturb me.

I let him go. I listened as he walked up the stairs, and heard him step into Amy's room first to check on his daughter, then eventually move on to his son's room.

I sipped my tea slowly as mu husband quietly dealt with the sick children upstairs, and as my daughter's crying gradually faded.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I remembered was my husband feeling my forehead with the back of his hand and worrying that I was 'burning up.'

There was some sort of hot soup later, though I didn't really pay attention to what was in it. I realized as I at that I must have slept through a large portion of the day.

I vaguely recalled trying to get up to take care of dinner and promptly being escorted back to my temporary bed on the couch.

I roused myself when I hear the knock on the door and Giles calling down from upstairs. "I'll get it, Lizzie!"

He answered the door with Amy mercifully asleep in his arm. I could not make out the muted conversation at the door, but thought I recognized the voice of Inspector Gregson.

"Who was that?" I mumbled a query as Giles closed the door and came to check on me again.

"Gregson." He said. I had been right.

My mind was starting to work again. Some of the fog was beginning to clear. "He wanted to know why you weren't at work today." I realized. "What did you tell him?"

Giles shrugged. "I told him I was needed here," he said, "and that I have been away from my family too much lately."

As tired and sick as I still was, all I could do was smile at him.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	42. Chapter 42

Author's note: I'll admit it. I got part of this from the movie _The Family Man._ Nicolas Cage stars in it, and it's really good, so if you haven't seen it, you should. If you have seen it, you should recognize the reference. Enjoy!

* * *

"The kids are asleep. They're asleep, Giles!"

"Don't they sleep every night?" Lestrade just looked at me, clueless. I sighed, admittedly dramatically, before replying.

"Yes, but they're asleep _now_. And you aren't so tired that you're mumbling nonsense or fumbling with your shoelaces."

My husband wasn't as slow as some people thought. "Oh. Shall we retire early, then?" I shot him a wicked glance.

"Yes. Definitely." I agreed.

* * *

"Giles?"

"Hmmm?" He wasn't actually listening.

"Giles."

"Hmmm?" He was half listening now.

"There's someone at the door, Giles."

"There shouldn't be, not this time of night, love." I could have let it drop, but knew my husband would blame himself later. I persisted.

"There's someone at the door, Giles. At this time of night."

He blinked. "Oh. I'll just go run them off, then, shall I?" I watched him go. By the time he reached the door, his brain would hopefully be functioning properly again.

* * *

He was all business as he returned. "Who was it?" I asked.

"Hopkins." He said shortly. He didn't want to go, I realized. He didn't want to leave me.

"Oh. I guess they need you, then, down at the Yard." I prodded gently.

"I guess so." He agreed reluctantly and a bit grumpily.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, and he dressed in silence.

"Be careful, Giles." I said.

"Of course." He assured me automatically.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	43. Chapter 43

"Have you ever considered _not_ getting injured on the job?" I teased as I watched my husband try to get his shoulder to stop bleeding. "Are you supposed to get injured this often?"

Giles shrugged, then winced. "I've thought about it, love, but haven't quite figured out how to manage it. Gregson says I'm a bit slow." He added thoughtfully.

"From what I've seen Mr. Gregson isn't any better at not getting injured." I commented. "You should have heard your son when you came in, though. 'Da's bleeding again, Ma.' He says."

Giles grimaced. "Sorry." He apologized. I sighed.

"As long as you keep coming home at the end of the case, dear, we'll manage." I told him. He smiled gently, if not a bit sadly, a reached out to touch my cheek.

"I love you." He said softly.

"I love you too." He kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"How did I get to be married to such a wonderful woman?" He whispered in my ear.

"I felt sorry for you," I whispered back, "because you were freezing to death on my porch and suffering from a head injury."

He chuckled at that. "How very romantic." He quipped.

I rolled my eyes at the man. "This might be, if you weren't bleeding all over the washroom." I pointed out.

He grinned sheepishly and went back to dealing with his arm. Not for the first time, I wished the stubborn man would just let an actual doctor patch him up.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	44. Chapter 44

It was a miracle. Giles was not called out the day Allie was born.

My husband stared down at the little girl in his arms. "She's very small." He said quietly, old fears insisting on making themselves known. "Were the other two that small?"

Dr. Mills had just let him into the room. "Some children are born smaller than others." He told my husband carefully.

"Jackie will be disappointed." I said quickly, trying to distract my husband. "He's been wanting a brother ever since you told him he couldn't get a dog."

"He got used to Amy, he'll get used to Allie." Giles said, dutifully allowing himself to be distracted. "Someday he may even _like_ one of them."

"He likes Amy." I told my husband. "He's been trying to teach her to talk. He just doesn't understand why she cries so much. I keep telling him that babies do that. He insists that _he _never did."

Giles had to laugh at that. "He and Amy are asleep on the couch, by the way." He informed me. "Jackie wanted to stay up, but he was asleep half an hour after I finally told him he could."

He fell silent then, and I smiled. Quiet was not something that my husband and I experienced an abundance of, not with his job and two-now three small children. It was nice just to enjoy the quiet, and the fact that he was home to welcome our newborn daughter into the world.

And meanwhile my husband was completely entranced by his daughter and grinning like a fool at her.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	45. Chapter 45

"She's still very small." My husband could not help but worry.

"Babies usually are." Kristina had come to see her new niece and was cradling the sleeping child in her arms as she shook her head at her brother.

"Small for a baby." Lestrade grumbled back. "I know babies are small. I have seen one or two before in my life."

Kristina probably would have smacked him had she not been holding Allie. "You're hopeless, Giles." She told him. "Quit worrying so much."

Giles would worry anyway. Kristina knew that as well as I did. She also knew better than to just let him be or he would worry himself into a state over something he could do very little to help.

Kristina fixed her brother with a stern look. "You were tiny too when you were born, and you stayed that way." She said, deliberately digging at his own small size. Not that she was much bigger than he. "You've managed well enough."

My husband rolled his eyes at his sister. "That doesn't mean I want to wish it on her." He grumbled.

Kristina frowned. "I didn't think your size bothered you anymore."

Giles glowered at his sister. "It usually doesn't, unless I've been manhandled recently." He admitted.

"Rough day at work, dear?" I asked, putting an arm around his shoulders. My husband groaned at the memory and melodramatically turned and buried his head in my shoulder.

"Terrible. Horrible. Awful." He offered pitifully. He was only half-joking.

Kristina shook her head at her brother's antics. "And yet they're terrified of him at the Yard." She commented as I patted my husband on the head sympathetically.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	46. Chapter 46

"I don't know why, but she likes you best, Giles." Kristina declared as my husband came in from work. "See if you can get her to sleep." Kristina and I had been passing Allie back and forth for most of the day trying to get the child to quiet down and sleep.

She hadn't slept much of last night either.

Giles accepted the offered bundle from his sister. "Hello, my lovely lass." He smiled at her as he held her close. "Giving the women trouble, eh?" He asked conspiratorially. "Can't say I blame you. Those two are nothing but trouble."

Kristina rolled her eyes. "Have I told you you've been good for him?" She asked me. "For the longest time I wondered if he'd lost his sense of humor."

"Maybe you just aren't funny." I suggested innocently as I headed for the kitchen to start dinner.

"Maybe he's just been hit in the head too many times." Kristina shot back as she followed me. "I don't know how he does it." She said. "Put Allie in his arms and he goes right to sleep."

I laughed. "Jackie, on the other hand, starts bouncing off the walls as soon as his father sets foot in the house." I pointed out.

"Speaking of which," Kristina was suddenly serious, "how long has it been since we heard from that boy?"

We exchanged a glance, and I headed for the stairs.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	47. Chapter 47

There was no denying that Allie was not getting any bigger. Nor could I ignore the fact that she ate very little and got almost no sleep when her father wasn't home. She rarely cried, however, and when she did it was with nearly silent tears.

Giles had not worried aloud since his sister had berated him for it, and he tried to keep his expression neutral, but I could tell he was worried nonetheless.

When I finally called the doctor he could tell me little more than that my child was simply not as strong as her brother and sister had been and was not gaining any strength. When pressed, he finally admitted that he did not think her chances were very good, and that if she did live, it would be a struggle.

I almost hated to share the doctor's words with my husband. I do not know how I was explecting him to react, but his response was to steel himself as if for a fight before he accepted his quietly crying daughter and set about rocking her to sleep while I started dinner.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	48. Chapter 48

Life settled down into a pattern. Not a particularly pleasant pattern, but a pattern none the less.

Allie was so quiet we were afraid to leave her alone, or even set her down for very long. One of us was usually holding her at any given time.

During the day I did what I could around the house while still holding her in my arms. When Giles got home he alternated between cooking dinner and taking our daughter so I could start dinner myself.

He started bringing paperwork home instead of doing it in his office, and many an evening found him going through papers and filling out reports one handed.

He was still somehow succeeding in getting her to sleep where I could not.

Allie still was not eating much, and was still very small. There was still nothing the doctor could do.

Jackie seemed to sense that something was wrong. Where he had at first been jealous of the attention Amy had gotten when she had been born he worried about Allie, and tried to help me as much as possible around the house and with his older sister.

Not that he could do much, but bless him, he tried. It was sweet, if a trifle exasperating, having to explain to him that he was not big enough to do things like help cook dinner.

After dinner whoever had cooked would hold Allie while the other would put Jackie and Amy to bed, and as Allie grew weaker it eventually got to where we were alternating sleeping on nights.

I will never understand how Giles managed it; he made a point of being home, but being home was almost as much work as his job was, though it was different work.

He uttered not a word of complaint, and tried to stay cheerful about the whole affair. He still played with the older two and laughed and joked with Jackie, though throughout it all there was a lingering darkness that threatened to emerge, as if he were keeping despair at bay only through sheer willpower.

He would not have been the only one.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	49. Chapter 49

Author's note: I'm back! Sorry about the disappearance, guys. I just finished up finals for the semester yesterday. So I should be posting and answering reviews again and everything, and let me say I'm glad to be back!

* * *

"It's snowing!" Jackie informed his father as he blew inside, as if the cold, wet stuff falling from the sky might have escaped his notice on his way home from work.

"It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!" Jackie continued in a sing-song voice, dancing around my husband with glee.

A small smile crept across Giles' face as Jackie launched himself back over to the window and pressed his face against the glass. "It's snowing!" He declared once more, for good measure. "I wanna build a snowman!" He announced, turning back to his father and dramatically flinging his arms wide.

Giles looked out the window. "I don't think you can, Jackie." He told our son seriously. "It's all slush out there. The snow's melting as soon as it hits the ground."

Jackie frowned for a moment, thinking. "I could make a slush man." He suggested, and I could not help laughing as Giles shuddered.

"Maybe tomorrow." He suggested. "There may actually be snow then."

Jackie thought it over. "Okay," he agreed. "Can I help you make dinner?" He wanted to know.

"Sure." My husband agreed even as I shot him a look that said _no_.

"Don't cut any fingers off." I called as Jackie raced toward the kitchen and Giles followed at a somewhat slower pace.

My husband turned and winked at me as I rocked our youngest daughter in front of the fire. "Don't worry, I'll just stick him in the oven if he gets in the way." He assured me.

I was not immensely reassured.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	50. Chapter 50

I heard the knock on the door, but there was really little I could do about it while up to my elbows in flour. I left it for my husband to deal with.

I frowned as whoever was at the door knocked again. Apparently Giles was not going to answer the door. I sighed as I wiped my hands on my apron and forgot not to brush a strand of loose hair back and went to see who was at our door.

Inspector Gregson tried to hide his impatience as I opened the door for him. "My apologies," I told him, "I was in the kitchen. How may I help you, Mr. Gregson?"

"I was wondering if I might speak with your husband, Mrs. Lestrade." Mr. Gregson replied. He had apparently gotten over the initial discomfort he had originally felt at bringing the job into our home. I wondered if this were a good thing.

"Certainly." I moved back to let him inside, "Giles is in the sitting room." I said. I led the way, and fought back another sigh as I discovered the reason my husband had not answered the door.

Giles was asleep in the armchair, his daughter in his arms. I smiled at the sight, though somewhat sadly. That my husband had fallen asleep was an indication of how worn out he was.

In his arms Allie stirred, and Giles' eyes flew open. She was fine, however, and still asleep, so he relaxed.  
He looked up and saw me and offered a smile, trying once again to hide the worry that continually plagued him. I forced myself to smile back at my husband and our daughter.

He saw Mr. Gregson then and seemed to straighten up, somehow without waking Allie. He nodded to the other Inspector, who took the action as an invitation and found a seat on the couch, where he began to explain to my husband the reason for his visit.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." I said it quietly, but Giles still heard me and nodded ever so slightly.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	51. Chapter 51

"Giles! You-you're soaked!" I started toward my husband as he somehow managed to get the door shut behind him. He threw his hands up and stepped away from me, and I remembered I was still holding our daughter.

"I'm f-f-fine." He stammered, fumbling with the buttons of his coat.

"What on earth happened?" I asked. Giles did not answer; he was still shivering and fighting with his buttons. His gloves were missing as well, I realized. He had not been wearing them or his hat when he had come in.

"I'll get you some dry clothes." I told him, heading up the stairs. "We ought to just start keeping a change in the washroom for you."

"Th-thank you." Giles managed to get out.

When I returned to the hall Jackie was hanging his father's coat for him and darting back to help unbutton his shirt, which was also half frozen from the cold.

Jackie looked up and caught sight of me. His expression was suddenly solemn. "I could hold the baby, Ma." He said. "And you can help Da. I'm not too little."

He was only three. I looked over at my husband, who was probably going to end up sick before this was over. All the color had gone out of his face and hands, and he was still shivering uncontrollably. He needed to get out of those wet clothes.

"Sit down on the couch, Jackie." I said, coming to a decision. I showed our son how to hold his sister, admonished him not to get up, and went back to help Giles undress.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	52. Chapter 52

The door was not locked as I came home. It was slightly open.

I went for my revolver as I shoved the door the rest of the way open with my foot. I feared the worst as I stepped inside.

All was quiet, save for the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. I closed the door behind me and began searching the house for some sign of what had happened here tonight, though I could already guess well enough.

I stopped short in the doorway of the sitting room. A struggle had taken place here; my wife was not the sort to be the willing victim of anyone. The only thing undisturbed in the room was my desk, and it was enough to nearly bring a sob to my throat.

I knew what had happened here.

Some part of me was still thinking like a Yarder. Holmes was helping us with the case and would want to see the scene of the crime. I left the sitting room alone and backtracked to the washroom, hoping rather foolishly that somehow my wife and children had escaped this madman and left me word of their safety.

The house was quiet, far too quiet, as I found the note my wife had left for me before facing her attacker.

I let loose an explosive breath in my relief. The children, at least, were safe. For now. I ran for the bedroom.

I knelt down by the bed and looked under it; two frightened faces looked back up at me, not recognizing me at first. My oldest glared up at me, daring me to be whoever had broken into our home.

They scrambled out from under the bed and threw themselves at me and blurted out hysterical versions of what had happened before demanding to know where their mother was.

How do you tell your children that some madman has taken their mother and will likely try to come back for them?

I could not think of a thing to say.

Jackie declared that she had been taken trying to save them. He also promised his sisters that Sherlock Holmes and I would get her back.

My three children clung to me after that. I settled them in our bed, determined to keep them close anyway. If the family thief, as the papers were calling him, came back he would take my children away only if he managed to kill me first.

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	53. Chapter 53

Author's note: There was a chapter posted here a few days earlier that should not have been. I don't know how it happened, but I apologize, that was for something else entirely.

This is the next chapter, ready and posted where it should be.

* * *

I realized, watching my husband through my tears, that it had been a good thing Giles had not been home when we had lost Heather, though I had hated him for it at the time.

He sat in the rocking chair in which he had spent so many hours comforting our little girl, staring blankly into the fire. Every nerve, every muscle was rigid, though his eyes were blank and empty. I went to him slowly and laid a hand carefully on his shoulder, the ridiculous idea popping into my head that he might shatter at any moment.

But perhaps it was not so ridiculous. His breath caught, and a hand reached up to hold mine. A shudder tore through him and his head moved to rest against my arm. Jackie, still too young to really understand much of what was going on beside the fact that his mother and father were upset, had been quiet until now.

He left his spot on the couch where he had been simply watching us with concern and came to stand in front of his father with wide eyes. He placed a small hand on his father's knee and said, "It's going to be all right, Da." in a small but determined voice.

Giles darted forward and scooped our son up into his lap and pulled him close, holding him tightly against his chest, his face buried in the boy's hair. A muffled sob escaped my husband, and I once again felt my own eyes filling with tears and my breath caught in my throat. Jackie hugged his father back fiercly, trying his hardest to fix whatever was wrong, though he had no idea how or even what it was that he was trying to fix.

A knock sounded at the door, and I had to resist the urge to throw something. I had a pretty good idea of who it was calling and wondered why they could not leave us alone just this once.

Giles also knew. He pulled back from his son and let a curse fall from his lips that I had not even known my husband knew. Jackie stared at his father with huge eyes; he may not have understood what his father had said, but there was no way anyone could have mistaken it for anything remotely acceptable in any conversation.

Giles set his son down and absently ruffled his hair as he stood, but could not pull himself together as he assurred me that he would answer the door. I followed him, unwilling to leave him to face his coworkers alone.

Giles opened the door to reveal Inspector Gregson, who dropped an expletive or two of his own as he caught sight of my husband. "Are you all right?" He demanded, his eyes searching my husband as if for injury. It was an automatic reaction, as if it were something the other man had done many times before.

"You took off like a-" He caught sight of me and cut himself off, and then something seemed to click and all the color drained out of his face. "Giles-" He began, but seemed to have no idea of how to finish.

My husband closed his eyes briefly, then reached foward to pat the other Inspector on the arm as if he were the one in need of comfort. That seemed to bring Mr. Gregson out of his fog, and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice low. "If you need anything, let me know." He added. Giles nodded woodenly, thanked him, and bid him good night with a voice that sounded as empty as my aching heart and arms felt. He closed the door on the Inspector and stood there, staring blankly at the wood as if it did not even exist.

* * *

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.


	54. Chapter 54

It is amazing how life goes on even though it seems it should not. My husband went to work the next morning as if nothing had happened, or at least that is what I would have thought had I not seen him hesitate at the front door for a fraction of a second before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to stand with his back straight and his head up.

He looked back to me and I forced a smile. "Dinner will be ready when you get home." I promised.

He nodded silently, but did not even try to return the smile. His eyes were still hurt, still empty as he quickly crossed the room and pulled me into a hug. He kissed me on the cheek, then pulled back. "I'll be home a soon as I can." He promised softly.

"I'll be fine." I assured my husband. He nodded, but was not entirely convinced. "Be careful out there." I told him sternly.

"Always." He promised.

Then he was gone.


	55. Chapter 55

Giles was distracted when he came home; Jackie nearly ploughed him over when he tackled him in greeting.

My husband pulled himself together quickly, though, and before he knew it our son had been swept off his feet and had been thrown over his father's shoulder and was dangling down his back. He shrieked and giggled and flailed his arms about and demanded to be put down.

A small, sad smile crept across my husband's face as he obliged his son, although Jackie was somewhat dismayed to find his father putting him down headfirst.

"Hey!" He shouted, trying to decide whether to be exasperated with or amused by his silly father and his games.

"What?" Giles asked of his son; he looked genuinely puzzled. "You said to put you down."

"Not that way." Jackie declared impatiently. "The other way. Feet first."

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say so?" Jackie was running across the room to hide behind my skirts as soon as he was out of his father's grip.

Giles stopped to check on Amy; her crib was still set up in the sitting room. She was awake. Small arms reached up towards my husband and little fingers wrapped around his. He smiled, another small, sad smile, and my heart ached both for him and our lost little girl.

He was managing. Somehow he was shoving the hurt and sorrow away to do his job, and to take care of the rest of his family.

I only wished I did not have such a hard time trying to do the same.


	56. Chapter 56

"Ended up facing off with the Superintendent today." Giles said out of the blue. Supper had in general been an almost silent affair since Allie had been taken from us, and the sudden statement startled me and left our son staring at his father.

"Oh?" I managed to ask, though I wondered what it really mattered.

Giles sighed, but pressed on. "I called Mr. Holmes in on a burglary case. Superintendent showed up while he was there."

"Let me guess, you came to Mr. Holmes' defense." I guessed. It was not in my husband's nature to ask someone for help and not watch their back.

Giles nodded. "The Superintendent backed down. I think he's starting to realize that the man actually has some use."

I managed a smile. "So you won this round, then?"

My husband shrugged. "We caught the man responsible. That's all that really matters."

"Really?" I challenged. Giles simply shrugged once again.


	57. Chapter 57

"Sorry I'm late, love." Giles murmured wearily as he emerged from the washroom.

"I see that Scotland Yard making sure its claim on my husband has not been forgotten." I teased gently.

"Afraid so." He agreed ruefully. "Jones is right. It's ridiculous how things can be almost peaceful for weeks and then without warning it's like the whole city is under siege."

"So I probably won't be seeing much of you for the next few weeks." I surmised. Concern and guilt warred in my husband's eyes, and I sighed. "I'll be all right, Giles. You don't need to worry about me." I fixed him with what I hoped was a stern look. "You have a responsibility to London just as much as you do to your family. The Yard needs you now."

He nodded hesitantly. Then he flashed me a real smile, a rare enough sight of late. "Just don't get yourself killed." I told him firmly.


	58. Chapter 58

Messages home were certainly keeping me from going insane, but I still worried. Things had apparently been more hectic at the Yard than Giles had let on, because once I had given him leave to run himself ragged if his job demanded it, he barely made it home twice in two days.

The third day he sent a message home with a scribble apology and a hasty explanation that they were swamped at the Yard and he could not get away.

More messages followed, and I hoped that my husband was at least getting some form of rest and food from somewhere.

That last thought led me to give the next Constable who stopped by with yet another apology from my husband a basket with some lunch in it to take to Giles.

It eased my mind, but I found myself hoping that my husband made it home soon.


	59. Chapter 59

Author's note: Yes, I am jumping a bit ahead, but I wanted to start doing some pieces involving (however indirectly) Watson. Thanks for bearing with me.

Also, due to a hectic schedule, school, and family life, I have stopped replying to reviews as much. I am sorry, but something had to give if I wanted to keep writing and posting _something_.

Again, thanks for your patience and understanding.

* * *

Little Olivia came into this world a strong, healthy, and willfull child. She slept through her first introduction to her father, but all the same managed to catch a fistful of her father's jacket in her right hand and he only managed to disentangle the material from her hand with great difficulty.  
She slept through the first night, and then seemed to feel no need to sleep through any more. She was not unhealthy, she simply did not seem to need as much sleep as her siblings had. It nearly drove me to distraction in spite of my relief that she was awake, alert, and well; I needed sleep even if she did not.

Giles again began bringing paperwork home; it was a relief when he took to sitting up with her so I could get some sleep, though he had to be careful to keep his work out of our youngest child's reach. It took Giles only one ruined report to realize that much.

Amy was walking now, and keeping her out of trouble also kept me busy even when Giles was home to lend a hand with the children. Jackie took his responsibilities as the oldest seriously; he watched his sister and kept her from getting hurt, but the two of them were capable of getting into more trouble than I could have imagined.

Both seemed to enjoy screaming, and shrieking, and shouting, and laughing, and Jackie seemed to be very quickly teaching Amy how to run, although he at least also seemed to stay close just in case she should fall anyway.

A sharp glance could usually get them to stop running around and shrieking, though it usually resulted in little Amy bursting into tears and Jackie worrying about 'the baby,' though she was by now two years old and no longer the youngest.

My children tended to overreact a little bit, and it made me wonder what Giles had been like as a child. I had never been this much trouble growing up, I was sure of it. I was also sure our children took after their father.

One day, having had enough, I finally told their father he could deal with the three of them; I needed to go to the grocer's.

I returned to find Jackie and even Amy sitting wordlessly on the floor, watching their father with wide eyes, while Giles sat at his desk in seeming ignorance of the action, or lack therof, of the two children behind him. He was sorting through papers, his youngest in his arms and safely out of reach of anything on the desk.

"Get much done, dear?" I greeted my husband as I swept through the sitting room. Jackie and Amy did not so much as twitch.

Giles grunted, an indication that he had gotten significantly less done than he had hoped, and I wondered what I had missed.

"I'll start supper." I said uncertainly, wondering if Giles had perhaps threatened to murder our children if they so much as moved, for they looked as if they were trying to avoid even blinking and breathing as much as possible.


	60. Chapter 60

After being dragged out of bed at two in the morning and spending the following day and a half running himself ragged for the sake of Scotland Yard my husband returned home looking far more worn than I would have expected even him to, a sure sign that something had happened and that all was not well.

Our two oldest children unfortunately missed this as they came running from the sitting room to welcome their father home. Jackie tackled his father, and Amy helped as best as she could by launching herself at one of her father's legs.

Giles was not ready for them, further proof that something was wrong. Usually he could handle both at their most energetic. Today he barely managed not to swear as the not insignificant forces that were his two older children rammed into him and actually succeeded in knocking him down.

Jackie and Amy were both up and off of their father in an instant, staring at him as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position.

Jackie's eyes were wide as apologies and demands to know if his father were all right poured out of his mouth in a jumble of mixed sentences and words. Amy, on the other hand, stood there in silence, tears threatening to emerge.

Giles closed his eyes and nearly sighed, but did not seem to have the energy to comfort his children. The absence of quick reassurance only served to frighten them more.

"Da's dead." Jackie decided, his face suddenly mournful. "They killed him."

Giles _did_ sigh that time. "I'm not dead." He told his oldest child as his second began to cry in earnest.

"You are too." Jackie insisted. "You can't even stand up."

"Your father is not dead." I scolded my son.

"I bet someone shot him." Jackie announced, to my horror.

"Nobody shot me." Giles protested wearily.

"Then somebody stabbed him." Jackie corrected. I certainly hoped not.

Giles groaned. "Nobody stabbed me either."

Jackie looked his father, who was still sitting in the floor, over critically. "Then what?" He wanted to know. "How'd they kill you?"

"No one killed me." Giles grumbled, losing his patience for once. "Somebody hit me in the back of the head with a teakettle."

"Oh." Jackie considered. "I guess that wouldn't kill you." He frowned at his father, suddenly suspicious. "Why did you fall, then?" He demanded. "You never fall."

Giles managed a small smile. "Because he hit me hard enough to knock me out," I stared at my husband in horror as he shared the details of his injury with his son, "and I've been a bit dizzy since I woke up." I glared at my husband; the children usually reacted badly whenever they discovered their father had been injured on the job. We had therefore tried to keep Giles' injuries from them as much as possible.

Perhaps it had been the wrong thing to do. Far from being traumatized, Jackie actually looked relieved. "Did someone have to rescue you?" He asked curiously. "You know, from the bad guys?"

Giles blinked at his son in surprise. Then he answered. "One of the other Inspectors was with me." He assured Jackie.

Jackie nodded his approval. "You got the bad guys, right?"

"The other Inspector did." Giles admitted, finally getting up off the floor. Jackie was pleased nonetheless.

He and his sister, who also seemed a good deal calmer now, followed their father into the sitting room. I also followed, still trying to decide if telling Jackie the truth about what had happened had been a good idea.

"When I grow up," Jackie decided, "I'm going to be a police man too."  
I was certain it had not.


	61. Chapter 61

I jerked upright in bed at the sound of my oldest child screaming like a madman. The only thing that kept me from leaping out of bed in the next second was my husband's reaction.

The man yawned, sighed, and rolled out of bed mumbling that he would take care of it. All the same I was out of bed and starting to fume at my husband's lack of concern for our son when the screaming stopped.

A minute later Giles returned, Jackie in his arms with his face buried in his father's shoulder. "Nightmare." Giles assured me, not the least concerned, as he settled back into bed and his five year old son refused to relinquish his grip on his father's neck. "I'll have to tell Kristina he's started having them."

I stared at him. "You knew this was coming?" I demanded.

He at least had the decency to look sheepish. "We both went through a period where we had frequent nightmares." He admitted.

"And you both screamed like that?"

Giles shrugged. "I know she did." He said. "She says I did as well, and I certainly remember waking up from some awful dreams."

I groaned. "You could have warned me." I grumbled. "He scared me half to death." Giles did look apologetic as I sighed. "How long will it last?"

Giles frowned. "Kristina had nightmares off and on for about three years." He admitted. "She claimed I did it for quite a bit longer."

"How long?" I asked sharply.

Giles rolled his eyes. "She claims I did it right until I turned twenty." He groused. "Then again, she also claims I used to think an arachnid was a type of flower."

I scowled at my husband. "I may have to have a talk with your sister." I informed him.

Giles chuckled. "Don't believe half of what she says." He warned.


	62. Chapter 62

The talk with Kristina ended up having to wait. Giles came home early the next day, and worried. He disappeared into the washroom for just long enough to get the worst of the day's grime off of him before coming to the kitchen.

He took my hand and led me to the table in spite of the fact that dinner was still cooking on the stove. His expression was grim as he sat down and beckoned for me to do the same.

"Giles, what is it?" I asked.

"Trouble." He said uneasily, running a hand through his dark hair. "This gang we've been after, Lizzie, they're getting desperate."

"Meaning?" I prompted, when my husband did not continue right away. Giles sighed.

"Someone broke into Smith's house after he left this morning." He said in a hollow voice. Dark eyes searched mine as he spoke. "The place was trashed, Lizzie. They found blood on the floor..."

"He was married." I recalled, and realized what was bothering my husband. "They had a small boy."

Giles nodded unhappily. "The boy was at school, but there's been no sign of Margaret." He hesitated, then seemed to steel himself. "Do you think you and the children could stay with your mother until this is over?"

I nodded, though it seemed as though I were watching someone else as I added, "Mum has been after me to come and visit anyway." I stood and went back to the stove before the dinner burned. "We can pack tonight and be on our way in the morning." I suggested.

"Early." Giles replied, and I nodded.

"Early." I agreed. "And you'll take care of yourself while we're gone, Giles?"

He managed a smile, worried as he was. "Of course, love."


End file.
